


Fucked Up Sansby Week

by talkingsoup



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Asexuality, Canon-Typical Violence, Cunnilingus, Depression, Ecto-Genitalia (Undertale), Explicit Sexual Content, Final Chapter is NSFW, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mutual Pining, Sans Is Ace, TBA - Freeform, Verbal Abuse, fucked up sansby week, sansby - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-14 22:09:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13599411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkingsoup/pseuds/talkingsoup
Summary: Semi-connected drabbles about the skeleton and the fire man.





	1. Prompt 1: Drinking (Flicker)

**Author's Note:**

> Also on Tumblr.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans gets pensive when drunk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is SFW.
> 
> Also available on Tumblr.

“That was your fifth, Sans,” Grillby was saying, arms folded, flames crackling softly. Sans squinted at him, still holding up his empty glass. The flickering light made it hard to keep track of where Grillby was. Which he distantly understood was ridiculous, since Grillby hadn’t moved an inch. He was just _flickering_ so much.

“Ssso?”

“You know you’re cut off after five.”

Sans gave an exaggerated groan and set his glass down on the bar with a _clunk._

“Listen, Grillbz. Grillby-bee-bee.” He crushed his hand against his face to keep from laughing. “Listen, Sober Sans has all these-- _rules_ about life. Dumb ruless, like, can’t have more’n five drinks, an’, no shortcuts when ya don’ know where it leads, an’ don’ talk t’the kid till they get to the bredge, bridge, an’ all this…”

Sans gestured wildly to try and emphasize the stupidity of it all.

“It’s dumb. Fun Sans wan’s the reins right now. Let Fun Sans drink.” This time Sans couldn’t help but laugh. “Fuck, jus’ referred to myself in, in third persong, didn’t I.”

“Yes,” Grillby said, with a bartender’s patience. “You did.”

Sans pressed the back of his hand dramatically against his forehead.

“How far I’ve fallen,” he lamented, still snorting. “Re-Resorting to such a clee-shay. C’mon, Grillbz. One more fer th’ road, yeah? ‘M not even that drunk. Not gonna go, go dyin’ in a ditch or nothin’, swear.”

For a flame elemental, Grillby did a pretty fair impression of a stone.

“Sober Sans says the limit is five,” he said dryly. “And so do I. Besides, it’s almost closing time. You should get home. Sleep it off.”

Sans slumped on the bar, defeated.

“Don’ wanna sleep.”

“I don’t believe that for a second.”

Sans groaned, feeling the first touch of irritation and trying to ward it off. He was just barely sober enough to not want to be an irritable drunk. Any other kind was preferable, even melancholy or depressing. He scrubbed at his face.

“Whole world’s ending,” he said, toying with the rim of the glass, tipping it back and forth. “Can you blame a guy fer wantin’ t’just, yanno…”

Grillby unfolded his arms with a soft sigh. He reached down and pulled the glass out of Sans’s hands before he could knock it over and break it.

“The world isn’t ending, Sans,” he said, turning away to set the glass with the rest of the dirty dishes. Sans propped his chin on his hand and watched him, trying to track his movements. God, he really was a mess. He’d be worthless if the kid decided to go off the rails right now, or if the flower decided now was a good time for a reunion tour.

Not that Sans was ever anything but worthless.

“Go on,” Grillby said, glancing back to find that Sans hadn’t moved. “Your brother’s probably getting worried.”

“He ain’t there.”

He could feel Grillby staring at him and realized too late that he’d said the wrong thing.

“Of course he’s there.” Grillby braced both hands on the bar, leaning toward Sans. “Where else would he be?”

Sans buried his face in his hands for a moment, grinding his palms against his eyesockets.

“Right, right. Righ’, I know. That was--las’ time, or the time afore, uh--shit. Haha. Maybe, uh, maybe ya were righ’, maybe I’m too drunk, heh.” He grinned up at Grillby. “Man, yer so…flickery.”

Grillby heaved a sigh and shook his head a little.

“Go home, Sans.”

“Yer jus’ fun t’look at, yanno? Makes my skull feel weird.”

“Sans. Go home.”

“Uh, kin I…” Sans folded his hands neatly on the bar, tapping his index finger against the wood. “Kin I stay jus’ a bit--jus’ till close? I don’t, uhhhhh--yanno, he’ll yell at me an’ all. An’ I don’ feel like walkin’ yet. I jus’ wanna sit an’…not think. Izzat okay?”

Grillby regarded him in silence for what felt like a long time. Then he pushed away from the bar and went to pick up the tray of dirty dishes.

“Fine,” he said. “But if you pass out, I’m calling your brother to collect you.”

Sans gave him a thumbs-up, even though Grillby wasn’t looking.

“Knew ya loved me.”

Grillby didn’t answer, disappearing into the back room to start cleaning up. Sans took the time to look around the restaurant. Redbird and Fisher were both on their way out, leaning heavily against each other. That made Sans the last one here.

He really was living a cliche. If he had any dignity left, he might have even been a little embarrassed about it. As it was, all he could think was that the area behind the bar looked so much more dull without the flicker and glow of Grillby.

 _Everything_ was so much more dull. Sans reached for his drink before realizing it wasn’t there anymore and let his hand just sort of flop on the bar. He settled for folding his arms on the bar and laying his head down. Just a rest. It would be fine so long as he didn’t pass out. He’d never hear the end of it if Papyrus had to carry him home again.

God, he wished he could have just one more drink…or that Grillby was back already. It was so quiet like this, with the restaurant completely empty. It was easy to start thinking that maybe he’d gotten it wrong, that maybe this was one of the bad timelines. That everyone was gone already. That he should be heading for the castle by now to face the kid. He hated this sort of quiet. He buried his face in his arms, squeezing his eyesockets shut, trying to ignore the twist of anxiety growing in his soul.

He heard footsteps approaching and lifted his head.

“Oh, damn,” he said, grinning brightly when he saw Grillby walk by wearing thick rubber gloves, carrying a rag and a spray bottle. “Theeeere you are. Where’d you go? Everythin’s brighter with you around, hehe.”

Grillby heaved another sigh.

“I was gone for two minutes, Sans.”

Sans winked at him blearily. “Felt like two days. Hehe, but yanno, time’s, time’s meanin’less.Two days, two minutes. S’ all the same.”

Grillby made his way through the restaurant, wiping down tables as he went.

“I’m closing up now. Time might be meaningless, but you still need to go.”

Sans turned around on the stool, wobbling and almost sliding off. He held onto the edge of the bar for support, frowning in Grillby’s general direction.

“He’s there, righ’?” he said, blinking hard, trying to remember. “I don’ wanna go home if he’s…”

“Of _course_ he’s there, Sans,” Grillby said, exasperated.

“You promise?” Sans snorted. “Hah, I hate promises.”

“You’re being ridiculous.” Grillby had made his way back up through a row of tables and now stood before Sans, gloved hands on his hips. He seemed like he might be frowning, though it was hard to tell with someone who didn’t really have much of a face.

“I jus’ hate the quiet, is all.”

“No you don’t.”

“I hate _that_ kinda quiet. S’empty. Jus’ empty quiet. Like here. Ever’one’s gone. Ever’thin’s empty.”

Grillby was staring at him. Sans closed his eyesockets. This was going too far. Grillby was right, it was time to go. Before Sans said or did something he was going to regret.

“Sorry, ‘m goin’. ‘M goin’.”

He started to slide off the stool and caught his foot on one of the legs, stumbling and gripping the bar to keep from falling. The stool tipped sideways and Sans ended up half-sitting on the floor, dangling from the edge of the bar.

“Shit--”

Grillby caught his free hand and pulled him upright. Sans swayed but managed to keep his footing, chuckling a little. Grillby held onto his shoulders to steady him.

“Heh, sorry, guess uh, guess Sober Sans is right about uh, about five bein’ the limit.”

“Are you going to be alright walking home?” Grillby asked, keeping his hands on Sans’s shoulders. There was that rare touch of concern in his voice, obvious only because he always sounded so dry and neutral. Sans beamed at him and lay his hands on Grillby’s wrists.

“Aww, ya care.”

“I’m worried about you,” Grillby said, still not letting go. “You’ve been different lately. You’ve been pushing your limit more and more.”

“Heh.” Sans kept his grin in place. “Yanno, even with gloves on, yer hands are…”

Sans dropped his gaze to the vicinity of Grillby’s chest.

“Warm?” Grillby offered.

“Stupid sayin’ it out loud.”

“Says the guy with a good hundred or so fire puns every single day.”

“Gonna getcha t’laugh one ‘f these days.”

Grillby’s hold lingered for a moment longer before he finally let go. Sans didn’t technically feel temperatures, but all at once he felt colder.

“Go home, alright?” Grillby said quietly. “I know you don’t like promises. But I can at least promise that he’s there and waiting for you.”

Some tightness around Sans’s soul began to loosen and he smiled up at Grillby for real, watching him flicker.

“Yer too nice t’me, yanno?”

Grillby started to lead him toward the door, one hand at Sans’s back to keep him steady. Sans stumbled along, trying to avoid chairs and tables.

“Too fuckin’ nice t’me,” Sans affirmed with a nod. “Ya don’t hafta be.”

“I know.”

Sans slung an arm around Grillby’s middle, leaning against him.

“Yanno, uh, we could--”

Grillby cut him off with an exasperated sound and undid Sans’s grip.

“Not when you’re this drunk, Sans. You know the rules.”

Sans dropped his arm but kept leaning on him, seeking warmth.

“Sober Sans’s got so many damn rules.”

“That one is a Grillby rule and you know it.” Grillby stopped at the door, extricating himself. “Now stop referring to yourself in the third person or I’ll never let you live it down.”

“Gentleman Grillbz. Don’t even hafta _do_ anything…could just…”

“Right, you’ll just pass out in my bed and then I’d get a worried call from Papyrus in the middle of the night. I don’t think so.”

Sans heaved a dramatic sigh. This was fine, this was normal. Even the rejection was normal. Normal was good. Safe.

“See ya tomorra, Grillb,” he said, pushing open the front door.

“Sans.”

Sans paused and looked back with a hand on the doorknob, surprised by the serious note in Grillby’s voice. The flame monster’s expression was as neutral as it always was.

“Tomorrow we’re going to have a talk, alright?”

“Uh.” Sans wasn’t sure what to say, too many alarm bells going off in his skull to think clearly. He said the first thing that came to mind.

“Okay?”

Grillby’s posture seemed to relax a bit, flames flickering a little more gently than before.

“Goodnight, Sans.”

He closed the door and Sans heard the click of a lock. He stared at the door for awhile, missing the warmth and light.

“G’night.”


	2. Prompt 2: Listening (The Space Between Stars)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans sucks at talking but Grillby is good at listening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is SFW
> 
> Also available on Tumblr.

Sans was pretty sure there was no sentence in the monster language more frightening than “we need to talk,” or any variation thereof. It had to be one of the worst things you could ever say to another living thing. He’d spent most of the day in blissful ignorance, until he popped into Grillby’s for lunch and immediately remembered.

He debated staying out of the restaurant for the rest of the day, but that seemed too extreme. The only food at home was spaghetti. Misery had different degrees, he had found. Grillby hadn’t said a word at lunch, and though Sans doubted that Grillby had simply forgotten, he had confidence in his own ability to dodge a line of questioning. It was one of the few things about himself he had any real confidence in.

He was the guy who never told anyone anything, after all.

He was as relaxed as ever at dinner, stopping himself after two drinks and chatting easily with the other Grillby regulars. Grillby was a bit quieter than usual, but he was always somewhat quiet during business hours. Sans took it as a win. People said that the anticipation of a bad thing was worse than the thing itself, but people were liars. It was better to enjoy yourself as best you could until the last moment before things went to shit.

He didn’t start getting nervous until the other regulars started to disperse. It seemed that Grillby was waiting for a bit more privacy, which was probably a bad sign. When Sans looked around and saw that he was one of three customers left, he decided it was time to make himself scarce. See if he could put things off for another day.

“Welp, bed’s calling,” he announced, starting to get to his feet. “Papyrus too if I’m not careful.”

“Stay a minute,” Grillby said as he was clearing one of the nearby tables. “We need to discuss something.”

Sans paused with one foot on the floor. “I’ll pay off my tab tomorrow, yeah?” Tomorrow might not come at all. Avoiding his tab was one of the few perks of the Resets.

Grillby headed toward the kitchen with an armful of dishes and pointed at Sans as he passed.

“Stay.”

Sans sat back down with a sigh, dropping his chin into a hand. Nothing was really keeping him from just walking out, but if this was about his tab then disappearing right now would be a problem. Sans was pretty sure that Grillby had banned him from the restaurant at least once, somewhere along the timelines. He couldn’t remember.

One of the other customers left while Grillby was in the kitchen. The only other person here now was Dizzy Bunny, but she had long since passed out in her booth. Her older sister would be by in a few minutes to take her home. It was like clockwork. Most things were.

Grillby emerged a minute later with his hands free, rounding behind the bar and pulling a bottle and two tumblers off a shelf. He filled both glasses and pushed one towards Sans. Sans gave him a tentative grin.

“Drinking with a customer, huh?” He closed his hand around the glass, inspecting the contents. “Jeez, must be serious. This the good stuff?”

“Absolutely not,” Grillby said, raising his own glass and taking a sip. Sans did the same. Now that he was cornered it was easier to just resign himself to his fate.

“Last night you said we could talk,” Grillby said, setting the glass down.

“I don’t remember most of last night,” Sans lied.

Grillby paused, probably debating whether to call him out or not.

“You’ve been weird lately.”

“I’ve been weird my whole life.”

“Drinking more. Getting confused. Going quiet for long stretches. Or saying depressing shit.”

“It’s for a bit I’m working on.” Sans took another sip.

“Since when do you like gallows humor?”

Sans shrugged. “Since always. It’s just not really a crowd pleaser.”

“And bad puns are?”

Sans snorted and grinned widely at him over his glass. “Ooh.  _ Burn.” _

Grillby folded his arms, pausing again to stare at him.

“Anyway, with the regulars we’ve got here, you can’t possibly tell me I’m the first guy you’ve seen get drunk and say depressing shit.” Sans took another sip, making a point of drinking slowly. “Fisher talks about his tragic love life every single night.”

“Yes,” Grillby conceded. “It’s commonplace for him. Not for you.”

Sans wondered how many times they’d had this conversation. Grillby was observant--he must have picked up on things plenty of times now. Sans could see this going several different ways, all of which had probably played out at one point or another. Sans would either manage to stonewall Grillby until he gave up, or Sans would start talking. He’d make up some bullshit story, or he’d tell a little bit of the truth, or he’d cave and tell Grillby everything. There would probably be hurt feelings, or tears, or yelling, or sloppy makeouts. Or all of the above.

It had all happened before, without a doubt. Sans propped his chin on his hand again, completely exhausted.

“Well, yanno.” He gave a vague shrug. “I don’t talk about my love life.”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it.” Grillby sighed and rubbed at his forehead with two fingers, flames giving a soft crackle. “You’re my friend. I worry.”

“You don’t gotta.”

Grillby made an exasperated sound. “You always say that. It doesn’t change anything.”

“That’s the whole problem,” Sans said, swirling his glass and watching the liquid spin. “Nothing changes.”

Grillby regarded him in silence for a moment.

“So this is about ‘us’?” Grillby asked, voice painfully calm. “Because you always say you don’t--”

“No, no.” Sans waved a hand. “No, it’s not about you, or us, or--anything. It’s not anything, Grillb. Seriously. I just meant--heh, I meant there’s no point in talking about it, ‘cause whether I do or not, nothing will change.”

Grillby tapped a finger against his arm.

“You don’t know that.”

Sans shrugged and took a drink.

“Have you even considered trying?”

“Pfft, me,  _ try _ something? Perish the thought.”

The front door swung open. Sans glanced over his shoulder to see Dizzy’s sister walk in and head directly for Dizzy’s usual booth. It was all so commonplace that she didn’t need to say a word to either of them--she just gave Grillby a tired wave. Grillby nodded back, and she tugged her sister upright, muttering a few words of encouragement to wake Dizzy up. She trudged back out the door, arm wrapped around Dizzy to keep her standing. Then they were gone.

Sans considered his drink for a moment before raising it to his mouth again.

“Maybe it’s this town,” he said. “Or maybe it’s just the whole Underground. You know that kid in town, Nacarat? Heh, he says everyone just kinda--grins and bears it. That people keep smilin’ because it’s better than…wallowing, or whatever, since we can’t change anything. Kinda just monsters in a nutshell right there, yeah? Stay positive, keep hoping.”

Grillby drained his glass and set it down. Then, without a word, he walked around to the front of the bar. Sans watched him, eyesockets widening when Grillby slid onto the stool right next to him.

“Uh.”

Grillby reached out and took Sans’s hand, folding it between both of his own. Sans felt warmth creep up to his cheekbones.

“Talk to me,” Grillby said, looking him dead in the eyesockets. “I’ll listen.”

Sans stared at their hands. They fit together so neatly. He should pull away, should just get up and walk out, but…god, these were the only times he ever really felt warm.

“Grillb,” he said, smiling softly and making himself look up at Grillby’s face. “All you ever do is listen.”

Grillby’s face and voice were calm, but his flames were flickering with agitation. This was upsetting him. Sans’s fault, like usual.

It wasn’t fair, was it? Sans had to at least give him something. He was quiet for a moment, casting around for a way to try and frame it, something that would be simple.

“D’you…know much about space?”

Grillby sighed and let go of Sans’s hand.

“You’re dodging again.”

“Nah, go with me a sec.” Sans caught hold of one of Grillby’s hands again and laced their fingers together. “You know me, I’m not--good at direct.”

“Fine,” Grillby said, brushing his fingertips over the back of Sans’s hand. “Space. Stars and the moon, all that.”

“Yeah,” Sans agreed, still staring at their hands. “There’s all kinds of stuff out there. Stars, planets…these sorta clouds of dust called nebulae. The universe is so full of  _ stuff  _ that people can’t even really--think about it. Right?”

“Sure.”

“It’s all that stuff, but it’s also all that nothing in between. The  _ space _ between things, yanno?”

“If this is just a set-up for a pun…”

“It’s not.” Grillby had started running his thumb up and down the side of Sans’s hand and Sans paused for a moment, distracted. “I guess metaphors are kind of like puns.”

“Go on.”

“I think most people are like stars,” Sans said, trying to pin down his thoughts. “Like you, my brother, Undyne. They’re bright, they got this energy to ‘em, they attract others into their orbit, or whatever. They move with a sorta--purpose. They--heh, they got their shit together, basically.”

“Alright,” Grillby said with a small nod.

“But then some people are like the rest of space.” Sans shifted his hand, spreading his fingers so he was no longer quite touching Grillby. “The in-between stuff. There’s nothing there, just some dust and rocks. The distance between things is…it’s another thing that’s hard to think about. Maybe it’s easier for humans, since they can just look up and see it. But stuck down here--I mean, heh, I’m actually into this shit and even I can’t really get my head around the idea of light years. You’d think it’d be something to do with time, right? But it’s about distance. Time doesn’t even matter in the end.”

Grillby was silent. Sans wondered if he was losing him. He sighed quietly.

“Some people are that. Just the space between stars. You can’t ever… _ fill  _ that space. It doesn’t change. Stuff just moves through it on its way somewhere else.  _ Things _ move and change, but the space stays the same. It’s just empty.”

Sans withdrew his hand, staring at his knees. He picked up his glass and drained it. He chanced a quick look up at Grillby’s face. The other monster’s flames were still flaring and shifting in agitation, even if his face was blank. Maybe this had been a bad idea. Stonewalling would have been better. It had sounded alright in his head, but maybe this was--weird, or fucked up or something. People didn’t usually talk about feeling  _ empty,  _ right? Of course they didn’t. This was the kind of thing that made people look at you funny.

Or made you just--sit there and not-- _ say _ anything.

Time for damage control, then.

“Eh, you know,” Sans said with an expansive shrug. “None of that really makes sense. I just like space is all. Heh, see what happens when I  _ don’t  _ tell puns?”

“Sans.” Grillby’s voice was always soft, but this time Sans almost had to strain just to hear him. “Are you saying you feel empty?”

This was going worse than Sans could have expected.

“Nah. I’m saying I’m the glue that binds the universe together.” Sans grinned wide and spread his arms. “See, Papyrus isn’t the only one who can do the ego thing.”

“Sans. Don’t backpedal.”

“Look, it was just a weird tangent,” Sans said, still grinning. “Guess I don’t even have to be drunk to ramble about nothing. Just forget I said anything, yeah?”

“Sans,” Grillby said, more firmly this time. “Perhaps I… _ am  _ reading too much into it, but this sounds like…depression.”

“Pfft, where are you getting  _ that?”  _ Sans reached for the glass again before remembering that it was empty. “Depression is just--crying all the time or whatever.”

“That’s inaccurate.”

Sans shrugged carelessly. “Well, whatever. I’m not an expert.”

“Neither am I,” Grillby admitted, leaning a little closer. “But this certainly sounds--”

“I just--I just meant that I have off days sometimes, that’s all,” Sans said, debating whether to just get up and walk out right now, before he could shove his foot any further down his nonexistent throat. “Lately I feel like--heh, like I’m going in circles. But it’s not some big--thing. C’mon, everyone has off days. Everyone feels a bit empty sometimes, right? It’s not a big deal. Like that Nacarat kid says, no point in wallowing.”

Grillby’s flames had almost gone completely still, subdued.

“It just sounds like this might be bigger than a few off days.”

“I’m sorry.” Sans leaned against the bar, propping his chin on his hand, fidgeting with his empty glass. “I got carried away. Shouldn’t have said anything. I’m fine, okay?”

“You’re still backpedaling,” Grillby said, the faintest note of frustration in his voice. “Sans, why is the idea of me worrying about you…the idea of me knowing that you’re unhappy…why is that so terrifying to you?”

The question caught him off guard. He stared at Grillby for a moment too long.

“I’m,” he started, then stopped and tried to start over, looking away. “It’s not. C’mon, don’t--that’s not it.”

“Then what is it?”

“There’s nothing to  _ worry  _ about.”

Grillby reached up and pulled off his glasses with a sudden crackle of fire. He rubbed at his face with his other hand.

“You’re so,” he hissed, “fucking difficult sometimes.”

Sans didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing. He stared into space as Grillby set his glasses back on his face. This was so stupid. He was such a damn idiot. When was he going to learn that the only real option was to never tell anyone  _ anything?  _ He was supposed to be the guy who made people laugh, not the guy who made people stare at him the way Grillby was staring at him now.

“Just…” Grillby said at length, sounding tired. “Can you give me a straight answer on just one thing?”

Sans glanced up at him.

“Maybe.”

“Is there…anything I can do to help? Anything at all? You might hate that I worry, but I do it all the same. I don’t want you to feel empty.”

Grillby reached out before Sans could start to think of a good answer. He laid his hand flat against Sans’s chest, over where his soul would be. Sans stopped breathing.

“Grillb--”

“You’re not empty.”

Sans’s eyesockets slid halfway closed. Warmth spread out from Grillby’s touch and Sans leaned into it despite himself. His ribs tingled.

God, even his soul felt warm. It was too much. Too much all at once.

“Y…Yeah, guess you’re right,” he said, chest hitching. He grinned faintly. “I’m full of shit, at least.”

“Hm,” Grillby said, the closest he ever came to actually laughing. Sans could tell he was smiling inwardly. “That’s certainly true.”

Sans chuckled and laid a hand over Grillby’s so he didn’t get any ideas about letting go.

“So you want to… _ fill me up, _ huh?” Sans said with an exaggerated wink.

“Don’t be crass,” Grillby chided, though he also moved a little closer. He reached up and laid his hand on the side of Sans’s face and Sans leaned into it with a quiet sigh.

“Seriously, Sans…”

“You do enough already,” Sans said, closing his eyesockets and nuzzling at Grillby’s palm.

“Sans--”

“No, I’m serious. I really am.” Sans leaned forward until his forehead was resting against Grillby’s chest. “I suck at--talking about this stuff, I just end up…going on tangents and then hating everything I say, and… I…just being around certain people, I think--being near you--it makes things better.”

His face felt warm, and not just from Grillby’s heat. This was so silly, so corny. He was usually so careful not to let himself be this emotionally vulnerable.

Grillby pressed a light kiss to the top of his skull. Something in Sans’s soul gave way. He grasped at Grillby’s shirt, a little too tightly, probably wrinkling the fabric.

“Can I stay the night?” he whispered, just barely managing to stop himself from saying  _ please.  _ “We can fuck if you want, but I just--need this.”

Grillby wrapped an arm around him and pulled him close. He tilted Sans’s chin upwards and kissed him on the mouth. Sans formed his tongue reflexively, reveling in the heat against his magic.

“We don’t have to,” Grillby murmured, rubbing up and down Sans’s spine. “You should rest.”

“Heh, don’t let Papyrus hear you.” Sans leaned more heavily against him. “It’s okay?”

“It’s okay,” Grillby said, and held him.


	3. Prompt 3: Caught (In Your Heat I Feel How Cold You Can Get)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another customer makes things awkward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is SFW.
> 
> Also on Tumblr.

There had been an air of tension at Grillby’s lately. One of the other rabbit monsters in town had recently lost his job at the Core, and had spent the last three nights drinking himself senseless. He tended to rapidly swing back and forth between belligerence and loud depression. There hadn’t been any real incidents yet, but Sans was still watching the rabbit carefully. The guy was fine sober, but Sans didn’t like unpredictability, especially not when it was in his literal comfort zone.

It was no reason not to enjoy himself, though. For the most part he could ignore the rabbit monster, chatting with the other regulars like usual. Fisher and Redbird were down in the dumps today, so Sans busied himself with cheering them both up. Before long they were laughing, and Sans excused himself to wash his hands. A few of his jokes had required the gratuitous use of ketchup.

He was on his way back when he ran into Grillby, who was heading for the kitchen. He looked a bit ragged--it was a fairly busy night.

“Hey, Grillb,” Sans said, stopping in the alcove where the sinks were. “Survivin’?”

“Always,” Grillby answered. Sans’s grin widened, despite the sudden swell of bittersweet feelings. Grillby had no idea how right he was. Grillby was one of the few monsters who  _ did  _ always survive--Sans couldn’t technically be certain, but he knew it in his marrow. The same way he knew his brother was one of the monsters who didn’t.

“What’s that smile for?”

“Nothin’,” Sans said. He took hold of Grillby’s wrist and pulled him further into the alcove, struck with sudden inspiration. Grillby hesitated, then moved forward, pushing Sans back against the opposite wall. Sans curled his fingers into Grillby’s shirt and Grillby leaned down to kiss him, softly at first. Sans pulled him even closer and parted his teeth to let Grillby in, making a quiet little sound when he felt the heat of Grillby’s tongue. Grillby deepened the kiss then, cradling Sans’s face and pressing harder against him.

Sans loved this side of him. Grillby was so calm and put-together most of the time. He had to be, Sans figured, being made of fire and all. Sans only ever saw him be passionate when they were alone.

“You’re in a good mood,” Grillby said quietly after a moment.

“Yeah,” Sans said, slinging his arms around Grillby’s neck, feeling a bit light-headed. “You wanna have some fun later?”

“You’re alright with it?”

He was so damn  _ good  _ about that. It always made Sans feel guilty. Grillby deserved someone he could be passionate with all the time. Not just sometimes.

“Hell yeah.”

Grillby kissed him again, and Sans melted into it. He tried to quickly calculate how long it was till closing time. Too long, by any measure. Grillby trailed a finger along Sans’s collarbone, like an affirmation. Then he broke off the kiss and pulled away.

“Later,” he said, slowly extricating himself.

Sans heard footsteps approaching. Grillby abruptly let go and turned away, heading toward the kitchen without another word. A moment later, the rabbit monster staggered around the corner. He gave Sans only a bleary glance.

“‘Scuse me,” he said in a gruff tone, and brushed past on his way to the sinks.

“Sure, bud,” Sans said with a pleasant grin. Then he headed back toward his spot at the bar, soul light.

Sans was buoyant for awhile after that, savoring the rare good mood. The night was just starting to wind down when things went wrong. Sans was chatting idly with Doggo when he heard the rabbit monster suddenly shout from further down the bar.

“I said  _ put it on my tab!”  _ The rabbit monster slapped a hand onto the bar. “I’ll pay it off tomorrow, y-you know I’m good fer it.”

Grillby was regarding the rabbit stiffly from the other side of the bar, arms folded.

“I do, but this is the third day in a row,” Grillby said in a tone that brooked no argument. “Especially considering how much you’ve had to drink. I need you to close out your tab. Now.”

“I’ll  _ get it tomorrow!”  _ The rabbit monster was getting louder by the second. “Wha’s th’ point of a tab if y-y-you can’t pay it off when you, when you want? When you’re p-properly all, all done? Gimme a fuckin’  _ break,  _ Grillby, you’re as bad as those, those assholes in the Core…”

“Yikes,” Sans muttered.

“Don’t worry, we’ve been keeping an eye on him,” Doggo said quietly. Sans glanced over at the dogs’ table. They were finishing up one last game and seemed to be ignoring the rabbit, but all of them had their ears pricked.

“I already gave you a break,” Grillby said, voice still calm. “I asked you yesterday to close out your tab. You said you’d be good for it today. I know for a fact you’re not hard up.”

_ “Fuck _ you, you don’t know anything!”

“Hey, bud,” Sans said, smiling politely at the rabbit. “No need to get so angry, yeah? Guy’s just doing--”

“You stay the goddamn  _ fuck  _ out of this, Sans,” the rabbit snapped, rounding on Sans.

Sans held up both hands, giving up. “Yep, okay.”

“No one asked your fucking opinion,” the rabbit went on. He turned fully around on the stool to face Sans, wobbling dangerously as he did so. Other people were starting to stare now.

“Okay.”

“Fuck you.”

“Alright then.”

“Please don’t antagonize other customers.” Grillby sounded downright  _ cold. _

“You let  _ Sans _ get away with, with runnin’ up a tab a-all the time.” The rabbit turned back to Grillby, gesturing wildly at Sans. “Why’s  _ he _ get special tre-treatment?”

“He doesn’t.”

“Or do I gotta, gotta suck your dick too, huh?” The rabbit bared his teeth viciously. “Everybody knows you two’re fucking.”

Sans’s eyelights flickered out for only half a second. Sans heard one of the dogs stifle a snort. Doggo got to his feet.

Grillby didn’t say a word. 

“Wow,” Sans said, and he let out a low whistle, grinning lazily. “Dinner and a show over here.”

The rabbit looked back and forth between Sans and Grillby, like he wasn’t sure which one he wanted to yell at more.

“You’re not even suhh-subtle about it.”

Grillby suddenly leaned forward and braced both hands on the bar, flames flaring brighter.

“You’re out of line,” he hissed.

“Does he pay you off with sex, izzat how it works aroun’ here? Do I gotta--?”

_ “Enough.”  _ Grillby’s voice cracked through the dead silent restaurant, but the rabbit still wasn’t taking the hint.

“--like some fucking  _ whore--” _

Sans burst out laughing. It wasn’t even remotely funny, even he knew that. He just had no idea what else to do. He’d been accused of a lot of things, but this was a new one.

Grillby had gone yellow-white.

_ “Get out,” _ he said in a voice like a distant inferno,  _ “of my restaurant.” _

“I don’t--” the rabbit started to say, but then Doggo clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“You heard him,” Doggo growled. “Pay the monster and get out.”

The rabbit looked for a moment like he wanted to protest some more, but then he looked from Doggo to the other dogs, all of whom had gotten to their feet as well. He glanced at Sans, then at Grillby. Grillby’s outline was starting to blur from the heat waves rising off him.

“Fine,” the rabbit finally said, and he pulled out his wallet. He slapped a handful of G onto the bar, not even bothering to count it, then slid off his stool. He almost collapsed, but Doggo kept a hand on him and steered him to the door.

Chatter resumed almost as soon as the rabbit had gone, hushed at first. Sans tapped his thumbs together, nursing his drink and trying not to listen to a word anyone was saying, just in case. He didn’t need to hear it. He didn’t care. 

Grillby gathered up the money and put it away in the register, flames returning to their normal dance and glow. Sans watched him, trying to catch Grillby’s eye, but Grillby didn’t look at him even once.

  
  


A couple hours later, Sans was the last one in the restaurant. He had his arms folded on the bar and was staring idly at the rows of bottles. He’d cut himself off after the rabbit’s outburst, but now he was craving one more drink. Or maybe a whole bottle. Thankfully, he knew better than to ask for one.

Grillby was standing further down the bar, polishing a glass with a clean rag. He’d been polishing the same glass for at least five minutes.

Sans took a glance around the restaurant to make sure they were really alone before he spoke up.

“Uh, so.” He paused. Breaking the silence felt like some kind of intrusion. “I could head upstairs, if you don’t wanna sweep around me. Let you close up in peace.”

Grillby didn’t answer, but he at least stopped polishing the glass, setting it on a shelf. Sans grinned and tried for humor.

“I could light some candles?” He chuckled softly to himself. “Heh, you ever heard of wax play? Dunno what people get out of the whole pain thing, but--”

“Maybe it’s not a good idea tonight, Sans,” Grillby said.

Right. Right, okay. He’d had a feeling this was how it was gonna go. There was no point in making a fuss about it, or acting disappointed or upset. He didn’t want to get into a fight. It was fine. It was all fine. Nothing that rabbit had said really mattered to him, anyway.

“Okay,” he said, stifling a sigh. He started to dig out his wallet. “You…want me to pay off my tab?”

Grillby whipped toward him, streaks of blue-white racing through his form.

“Do I look like I’m in the fucking mood for  _ jokes?” _

“Holy shit, Grillby, I wasn’t  _ making  _ one.” He slapped his wallet onto the bar a little too hard. “I meant in the  _ normal _ way. You know, with money, like normal people? Fuck.”

Grillby slowly calmed down, flames settling. He rubbed at his face with one hand. Sans started counting out bills, trying to remember how much he even owed. He’d been a bit more careful this timeline, he thought. Maybe. He wasn’t sure. Sometimes his tab carried over between timelines and built up into something truly ridiculous, but most of the time it simply Reset like everything else.

“How much do I owe you?”

Grillby heaved an exhausted sigh and picked up a receipt from the register. He walked over to Sans and held it out. Sans took it, glancing over the numbers. Not too bad. Manageable, at least.

“I’m…sorry I yelled,” Grillby said, hovering nearby. “You laughed before, so I wasn’t…sure.”

“It’s fine,” Sans said, not looking at him. He pressed a few more bills to the bar, then pocketed his wallet. “He really got to you, huh. I haven’t seen you that angry in awhile.”

Grillby made a frustrated sound.

“He was just drunk and out of line,” Sans said, getting to his feet. “It’s…not a big deal, yanno? It’s not like anyone  _ really  _ thinks you’re that kind of monster.”

“You can’t know that for sure,” Grillby said, flames snapping a little. He leaned against the edge of the bar with one hand, fingers curling against the wood. “I didn’t even know that it--we--that it was common knowledge.”

“I mean…” Sans grinned faintly, hoping this was still salvageable. “I think he was exaggerating. I think, yanno, the regulars know, but not like--everyone. Papyrus doesn’t know. I don’t think the regulars even really care. I mean, it’s…it’s not a big deal if people  _ know… _ right?”

Grillby rubbed at his forehead again.

“It’s a big deal if people think I’m accepting--sexual favors as payment.”

“Pfft.” Sans just barely managed to keep from laughing outright. “Sorry, just--come on, there’s no way. You’re too respectable.”

“It’s not funny,” Grillby hissed. “I have a reputation to protect. I have  _ plans  _ for this place. If that little human really does manage to bring down the barrier…”

They’d talked about this before. Like most monsters, Grillby had all kinds of plans and dreams. He wanted his restaurant to grow, to hire a few more chefs and waitstaff. He’d been looking into how to open restaurants up on the Surface for years now, in the event that Asgore finally got that seventh soul. Never mind that there would be a war if things went that way. Grillby just wanted to have a small chain, a few quality locations with good food for both humans and monsters. He’d even been teaching himself to work with human food. He wanted the recognition that he genuinely deserved.

It would be nice. Sans wished he could believe that something like that could happen. It would probably take a few years of being on the Surface, though, and he had no way of knowing if their time up there ever ran that long.

Grillby shook his head and folded his arms with a sigh.

“No one in their right mind would think that of you, Grillb.”

Grillby’s grip on his arms tightened a fraction. “And  _ you?” _

Sans stared at him. “What  _ about _ me?”

“You really don’t care that people might think you’re…?”

Sans shrugged, grinning again. “I mean, I feel like it’s more an insult to actual sex workers, don’t you? The idea that I could get into that line of work.”

“God damn it, Sans.”

“Kinda gross to disrespect someone’s job like that, too.”

“That’s not the  _ point.” _

“Grillby,” Sans said, and he sagged a little, all at once feeling weary down to his soul. “I don’t care what people think of me.”

“Not everyone has the luxury of not caring about anything, Sans.”

Sans stared at him, eyesockets going a little wider.

There was a tense silence. Grillby pulled off his glasses and buried his face in his hand.

“Shit,” he muttered. “I didn’t mean that.”

Sans said nothing. His gaze settled somewhere in the middle distance and he stuffed his hands into his pockets.

“Sans, I’m sorry. It’s just been a long day. I shouldn’t have let him get to me.”

“It’s fine,” Sans said, and he turned away. “I’ll try to do better about paying on time. Heh, not that it’ll matter for much longer.”

“Sans, wait.”

Sans walked out.


	4. Prompt 4: Family (A Disappointment)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans doesn't talk about a lot of things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is SFW
> 
> Also available on Tumblr.

They were lying in Grillby’s bed one night, sharing a companionable silence, when Grillby asked a strange question.

“Mnnff, say that again?” Sans said, rolling a bit toward Grillby. “I was half asleep.”

Grillby hesitated before speaking again.

“I asked if you’ve ever thought about having kids.”

It took Sans another second to process what Grillby was saying. When he did, he started snorting with laughter. Grillby made a soft sound and flicked the side of his skull.

“Come on, it’s a serious question.”

“Sorry, it just came out of nowhere,” Sans said, still laughing. “What, is this a marriage proposal?”

“God, no.”

“Hah, oh man, what in the world brought this on?”

“Hm.” Grillby scooted up into a bit more of a sitting position. Sans finally bothered to open his eyesockets and look up at him sleepily.

“My niece is coming to visit tomorrow.”

“Fuku is?” Sans’s grin brightened. “Aw, why didn’t you tell me? She’s a great kid. Her and Sasha come by all the time for hotdogs.”

Grillby peered down at him.

“To your  _ illegal  _ hotdog stand, you mean.”

“Ain’t teenagers if they’re not breaking some rules.” Sans stretched his arms and then folded them behind his head, yawning. “‘Sides, no one actually cares that it’s illegal.”

“As long as they’re not going during school hours.”

“I can neither confirm nor deny,” Sans said. He was pretty sure they were--or at least Sasha was--but he wasn’t about to get the two of them in trouble.

“Anyway.” Grillby drew his knees up and draped his arms over them. “Every time she visits, it makes me…pensive, I suppose.”

“Mmm.” Sans let his eyesockets droop closed again. “You’d make a good dad.”

There was a bright little tingle of extra warmth from Grillby and Sans smiled to himself.

“You think so?”

“I’ve seen how you are with Fuku. Do you want kids?”

Grillby thought about it for a moment before answering. “Sometimes. But…it requires meeting the right person.”

“And you’re married to your job,” Sans said, chuckling a little. They’d had that talk before. Sans hadn’t been able to fathom how a guy like Grillby could stay single.

“That too,” Grillby conceded. “What about you? Do you want kids?”

Sans laughed again. “Hell no.”

“You like them well enough.”

“It’s not about liking them.” Sans rolled toward Grillby and snuggled against his side. “I’d be a  _ godawful  _ dad. Can you even imagine?”

“I’m…sure you wouldn’t be  _ that  _ bad.”

Sans snorted. “Dude, don’t lie. I’d be the worst dad in the whole Underground. I can barely even take care of  _ myself.  _ I’m pretty much allergic to responsibility. I’d probably lose the poor thing within a year. Or get it killed.”

Grillby was quiet for a bit, so Sans took the opportunity to snuggle even closer, trying to wriggle his way under one of Grillby’s arms.

“That seems a little morbid,” Grillby said.

“Sorry. Exaggerating.”

He wasn’t, though. Sans knew he wasn’t. Half the time Sans wondered if he should even be  _ trusted  _ around kids. Child murder was child murder, even if it was done to, ostensibly, save the world. He’d never had any delusions about that. Someone who was willing to take a child’s life, under any circumstances, shouldn’t have them.

Sans yawned again.

“Anyway, there’s a whole laundry list of reasons not to have ‘em,” he said, scratching idly. “And you know how I feel about laundry, heh. Plus even if I did want ‘em, I couldn’t have ‘em.”

He felt Grillby stiffen a little and realized he’d said too much.

“You…can’t?”

“Nope.” Sans feigned another yawn, trying to be as casual as possible. If Grillby understood that this wasn’t a big deal or something Sans even cared about, maybe he wouldn’t do something stupid like--start pitying him.

“Can I…ask why?”

But there it was, that halting, cautious tone in Grillby’s voice. Like he was walking on eggshells, like he didn’t want to upset Sans. Like this was something Sans could possibly get upset over. Hadn’t he just said that he didn’t want kids in the first place?

Sans just never liked that tone. He heard it so damn often.

“I guess I thought you already knew,” Sans said evenly, keeping his eyesockets closed. “Or had assumed. My soul’s too weak. You give some of yourself to make a kid, and I’ve got nothing to spare. My soul would just come apart if I tried.”

It wasn’t a big deal. Probably the single least annoying thing about having only one HP.

“You’re certain?”

“The doctors who examined me when I was a kid seemed pretty sure. My parents were--”

Sans cut himself off, eyesockets cracking open. Too far. That was going too far. He must be sleepier than he’d thought. He didn’t usually slip up like that.

Grillby was silent for several long moments, and Sans clung to the weak hope that maybe Grillby wouldn’t push it. He was good about not pushing. Sans just wasn’t good at hoping.

“I’ve never heard you talk about them.”

It was diplomatic, Sans could at least appreciate that much. Giving him an opening, but also an exit. Sans was just always one to take an exit instead.

“Nothin’ to talk about.”

Grillby started gently rubbing along Sans’s upper arm. He sighed a little.

“There’s so much you don’t tell me.”

Sans was disappointing him again. Like he always disappointed everyone.  _ Everyone.  _ His parents, his brother, the lady in the Ruins, the human… Somehow, Sans even managed to disappoint people who didn’t even  _ exist.  _ It had to be some kind of talent.

“I don’t like talking about myself,” Sans murmured. “I’m not that interesting.”

Sans started to pull away and sit up, rubbing sleep out of his eyesockets.

“Sans?”

“It’d probably be awkward if I was still here when she arrives,” he said, scooting toward the edge of the bed. “I should go.”

Grillby caught hold of his wrist. Sans looked back at him, expression neutral.

“She’s not getting here till the afternoon,” Grillby said softly. “I’m sorry I pushed. Stay?”

Sans didn’t move, unsure of what to do. This was silly. He was being silly, oversensitive, too vulnerable. It was just--always so much easier to dodge. Safer.

“Nah, I’m…” Sans hugged himself for a moment, grinning wryly. “I’m sorry I’m like this. I hate killing the mood.”

“I know you do.” Grillby laid a hand on his shoulder. Sans heard the bed springs creak as Grillby shifted closer to him. He carefully wrapped his arms around Sans, giving Sans plenty of time to move away if he wanted to. Sans didn’t. He leaned back a little against Grillby’s chest, closing his eyesockets.

“You’d rather let everyone think that everything is fine,” Grillby went on, pulling Sans closer.

“I’m the funny guy,” Sans muttered, burying his face against Grillby’s arm. “The guy who doesn’t care about anything.”

Grillby stiffened. Sans wondered if maybe somewhere in Grillby’s mind, he remembered. People got deja vu sometimes, and with some pushing people could even start to remember things. Usually bits of dialogue or conversations. Sans hoped this was just deja vu. It would be better if Grillby never remembered that argument, at least not entirely.

“You…” Whatever Grillby was remembering, he seemed to shake himself out of it. “You realize that the funny guy doesn’t have to  _ always  _ be the funny guy, right?”

“Heh.” Sans smiled against Grillby’s arm. It was sweet to hear him say it, even if he was wrong. Maybe other people had a choice, but Sans didn’t. Once you understood the role you were supposed to play, there was nothing else. Nothing but the role. The script.

“You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to, but…” Grillby paused and sighed again. “I just sort of wish I had a better idea of what’s off-limits. I wish I didn’t find out only when I upset you.”

“You’re…right.” Sans hugged Grillby’s arm. “It’s not fair to you. I’m sorry.”

Why did Grillby even put up with him? Why did Sans have to-- _ be  _ like this, spiraling from one little thing? At least when it usually happened, no one was around to have to see it. Or no one noticed.

“I’ll try to…” Sans began, but gave up. There was no point. Even if he  _ did  _ commit to something, to trying to talk more, be more communicative--it wouldn’t matter. He could really, genuinely try, and then one day it would just stop mattering. He’d go right back to his old habits, maybe without even knowing he’d ever tried to be any different.

“It’s alright.” Grillby kissed the top of his skull. “We can work on that.”

“You’re too damn nice to me.”

“…You’ve been saying that a lot lately.”

This had to stop.

“Hey,” Sans said, and he tilted his head back, grinning up at Grillby. “Kiss me.”

Grillby hesitated, uncertainty flickering across his face. But then he leaned down, and Sans turned a little to meet him. Grillby kissed him lightly at first, so Sans deepened the kiss, letting his tongue form, urging Grillby along. Grillby held back for only another moment before he gave in, kissing Sans hard. He pulled Sans back into bed and Sans lay down to give Grillby a better angle. Grillby perched on top of him and attacked his mouth, making Sans shiver and gasp. Sans didn’t have much in the way of comparison, but Grillby had to be one of the best kissers in the whole Underground.

This was better. Better than talking about unpleasant things, better than Sans upsetting Grillby with his depressing bullshit. This was how it was supposed to be between them. Simple. Fun. One of the few things in Sans’s life that was uncomplicated. There had to be timelines where things were deeper between them, where Sans let himself open up, where that sort of thing even  _ worked-- _ but this wasn’t going to be one of them. And that was fine.

This was better.


	5. Prompt 5: Cruelty (Just This Once)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans goes to Grillby's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains **character death.**
> 
> Also on Tumblr.

Like always, he didn’t see the second attack coming. Like always, he heard his ribs crack before he felt it, the sound echoing through the hallway. He stumbled backward and hit the ground, pressing a hand to his broken ribs. Down and across, nearly splitting him in half. The same angle every time.

The pain was searing, but the funny thing was that it never seemed to hurt as much as he thought it should. He gripped at his shirt. The warm red of his final joke--had to get the last laugh, of course--seeped through his fingers and he tasted tomatoes in his mouth.

They must have seen this a dozen times before, maybe a hundred times. But there was still that flicker of a grimace on their face when they saw it. Like they still weren’t sure whether it was a joke, or real.

It was funny.

He gave them the last lines of his script and dragged himself upright, face screwing up with effort and pain. They lowered the knife. No point in using it again. He was already dead. They already had his LOVE.

“Welp. I’m going to Grillby’s.”

They ignored him as he staggered away, dripping red all over the floor. He grinned despite himself. Same old, same old.

“Papyrus, do you want anything?”

He could almost hear his brother refusing, going on his usual tirade about junk food and grease. He’d always hated Grillby’s. Except for the milkshakes. He liked those. Grillby always made a great milkshake.

They were already leaving, heading for Asgore’s chambers. They never did stick around to see his end. Sans’s vision swam and he stumbled against a pillar, bracing one hand against the carved stone.

Grillby. He wanted to see him. He wondered if he’d ever tried actually going. The shortcut alone would probably be enough to finish him. He could make this last, though. He’d had practice by now. He could make 0 HP last for whole minutes.

He’d had a whole lifetime to perfect making 1 HP last, after all.

Grillby would be one of the last ones left alive. There was no point in going back to his own empty house. No point in trying to find Alphys. Everyone else was gone. But Grillby…maybe Sans could make that work.

It was all over already. Might as well try. He wanted to see him. He was the only person left.

He took a shaky breath and teleported. He landed just inside Grillby’s and staggered back against the front door, nearly going to dust right then and there. God, that hurt, more than the knife had. He felt one of his broken ribs simply snap off and dissolve.

Not much time. Had to find him quick.

He made himself move forward, grabbing at a table for support, knocking over a chair, leaking dust and red. Making a mess. At least Grillby wouldn’t have to clean this one up.

Where was he?

“H-Hey.” Too quiet. Couldn’t speak up. “Grillb. One of the…usual, yeah?”

This was mean of him, he thought. Downright cruel. Coming here, making Grillby watch him die. Or making him find his dust, assuming Grillby did so in the next ten minutes. Sans wasn’t sure which was worse. He’d done both. Gotten there in time to see Papyrus’s head come off. Gotten there too late, found an empty battle body, a scarf and a pile of gray in the snow. Different kinds of cruel.

But Sans had always been selfish. He never got to say goodbye, not to anyone, not ever. Just this once…maybe it would be allowed, if it was just once.

Sans’s vision went black for a moment and he stumbled to the side. He tried to catch for something solid and grabbed onto the back of a chair. The chair toppled and Sans almost fell too, catching the edge of the table. He leaned on the table, breathing hard. He felt another rib disappear.

“S…Sorry, Grillb,” he rasped. It felt like there was dust in his mouth. “Didn’t mean to…”

Sans heard footsteps coming down the back stairs. He tried to push himself upright, but his legs wouldn’t support him anymore. His bones felt hollow.

“Who’s there?”

Sans tried to answer and coughed.

Light appeared at the back of the restaurant and Grillby emerged, hands blazing blue-white as he prepared to defend himself. He froze when he saw who it was.

Sans gave him a shaky grin.

“H-Hey, hot stuff.”

“…Sans?”

Sans’s legs gave out and he crumpled to the floor.

_ “Sans.” _

He heard Grillby rushing toward him. It was hard to see. Everything was just a blur of light and darkness. He felt warmth nearby as Grillby crouched beside him.

“Oh god, Sans…”

He sounded stricken, but Sans was smiling as Grillby gently gathered him into his arms. He was here. Sans had made it. One thing, one single thing, had worked out.

And Grillby would be the one to suffer for it.

“S’okay.” Sans let his head loll against Grillby’s chest, trying to look up at him. “I made it.”

“Sans, what…” Grillby very gently touched his chest and Sans let out a hiss of pain. Grillby jerked his hand away, shifting his grip so he wasn’t touching Sans’s ribs.

“What…what is this, what…”

“S’just ketchup.” Sans gave a faint chuckle and winced again. “Shoulda…seen their face. Gets ‘em every time.”

“You…the human? Sans,  _ why?” _

Grillby’s voice broke. Sans had never heard him sound like that.

“Had…to try.” Sans felt wetness starting to prickle at his eyesockets and fought it back. No tears. Crying on Grillby would just make this worse.

“Always hafta try. ‘S only…only three of us who can stop ‘em when they do this. I was the last.”

Sometimes Papyrus got through to them. Sometimes Undyne frustrated them too much. Sometimes Sans finally made them Quit.

Not this time.

“I’m sorry,” Sans said, whimpering as he felt another rib go. “Couldn’t stop ‘em. Now it’s all…”

Grillby hugged him tighter.

“Stop,” he said, voice shaking. “Stop talking. I--need to find a healer. There must still be someone…”

“Grillb, it’s okay.” Sans cast around until he found Grillby’s hand and held on, trying to lace their fingers together. “Hey. S’okay. All be over soon.”

“Don’t say that.” Grillby was flaring, flashing, heat whipping around Sans in long tongues. “Please, don’t say that.”

Sans tried to squeeze his hand but his grip was too weak. He looked up, willing his vision to focus. Grillby’s face hovered above him. He looked so sad.

“I’m selfish,” Sans whispered. “Wanted to see you again. Wanted to. S-Say goodbye to someone. Never get to. G-Grillb, I’m…”

“I’m here.” Grillby pressed a kiss to his skull. “I’ve got you.”

He always did.

Sans’s vision went dark. He let his eyesockets close. Grillby’s heat felt far away. Everything felt far away. He was out of time.

“H…Hey,” he said, struggling to get the words out. “Can…can I say…something mean?”

Grillby wouldn’t remember. He wouldn’t remember any of this. These Resets were bigger than most, more all-consuming. No one would remember a thing. Sans would only have the vaguest of deja vu, the sense that if it could have happened, it must have happened. He wouldn’t remember saying it, like Grillby wouldn’t remember hearing it.

That meant this was the only safe time to say it.

Unspeakably selfish. Unspeakably cruel.

“What is it?”

Sans hoped Grillby was still holding his hand. He couldn’t feel it. The world was fading.

“Love you, Grillb.”

He thought he heard Grillby answer, but he couldn’t make out the words.

Sans let go.


	6. Prompt 6: Water (You Seem Happy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans wants to show Grillby something cool, but it's been raining lately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is SFW
> 
> Also available on Tumblr.

Grillby liked to think he had at least been smart about it. He had gone up with the rest, in time to look out over the Surface and see the sunset. Grillby had felt the sort of awe and wonder he hadn’t felt since he was a child. No cavern walls, no ceiling--just endless space as far as he could see. Forests that put the one in Snowdin to shame, a gleaming city in the distance that had to be a hundred times the size of New Home. And above it all, the sky. Seeing that impossible orb of fire turn the sky from blue to orange and red and pink as it sank toward the horizon had felt…almost numinous.

But then it was over, and there was work to be done. He’d gone back underground right away to start getting everything ready. He’d worked tirelessly over that first week, packing and moving, transferring all the belongings he could to the Surface and storing the rest. A settlement sprang up within a matter of days at the foot of the mountain, which King Asgore had, in true Asgore fashion, dubbed “Outside.” By the second week, Grillby was running a tiny version of his restaurant from his tent, providing Outside with much-needed food and drink. It was the busiest he had ever been in his life, and also the most invigorated he had felt in years.

It was hard not to feel alive with the sun blazing overhead. 

Grillby barely saw Sans at all in those first few weeks. He wasn’t actually sure what Sans had even been up to this whole time, but Grillby was just too busy for socializing, in any sense. Even when Sans came by to visit or grab a drink, Grillby hardly had time to say more than two words to him. Sans kept urging him to take a break and come hang out, but all of Grillby’s limited time away from the food stand was spent helping the community

Now a month had passed, however, and things had evened out a little. Grillby found himself with a bit of free time. He was hoping to use it for research and paperwork--the plan was still to open a real restaurant here on the Surface, after all--but then Sans had caught up with him. The skeleton had some kind of sixth sense when it came to free time, like some kind of minor god of idleness.

“A whole day off, huh?” Sans had said, grinning widely as he sat on a stool outside Grillby’s food stand. “That’s perfect.”

“Why do I find that statement ominous?”

“Do you want to come into the city with me tomorrow?” There was a bright tone in Sans’s voice that Grillby had never heard before, something that almost sounded like excitement. “I’ve been exploring the city a lot. I found this sort of…thing that’s going on, and I’ve been hoping to show you.”

Knowing Sans, it probably had something to do with jokes. Or ketchup. Maybe even both. Grillby stifled a sigh.

“I don’t know,” he said, stepping aside for a moment to fill up another monster’s glass. “There’s a chance of rain tomorrow. And even if it doesn’t, with the rain we had today, everything will still be wet.”

The only downside to the Surface was that the sun wasn’t always there. Nights were fine, but over the course of that first month, Grillby became intimately familiar with the concept of  _ weather.  _ He’d assumed that “rain” was simply a more intense version of the drippy ceilings in Waterfall, but that first rainstorm proved him wrong. The worst part of it all was the unpredictability. It could be clear and sunny in the morning, and then storming by the time night fell. It could be cloudy all day, and yet not a drop of rain would fall. It rarely seemed to make any sense. Sans had tried to explain it once, something about moisture and air currents, but Grilly couldn’t get his head around it.

“You’ve got your rain gear,” Sans pointed out. “I’ll bring an extra umbrella. There’s only a twenty percent chance, and not till evening. If it  _ does  _ get bad, I can get us out with a shortcut. You can trust me.”

That wasn’t true, and never had been.

“Hm.”

“C’mon, please?” Sans was practically beaming. “Tomorrow’s the last day for this thing.”

“What is it, anyway?”

“I wanna keep it a surprise. But I really think you’ll love it.”

Grillby folded his arms, debating. This sounded like a bad idea at best, and some kind of set-up for a prank at worst. He had been into the city twice now, and it had been incredible both times--but being near rain puddles and dripping awnings made Grillby incredibly uncomfortable. And the idea of being caught out in the rain, even with his rain gear…

It would take a lot of water to truly douse him, but even a little would hurt. Whatever Sans wanted to show him probably wasn’t worth the risk.

Still…Sans seemed upbeat about the idea.  _ Excited,  _ even. Grillby didn’t think he had ever seen Sans excited before, about anything. He might be faking it, but if he wasn’t, then Grillby didn’t want to be the one to bring down his rare good mood.

“Fine,” he said at last, and Sans visibly brightened. “When?”

It was overcast the next day, which Grillby noted with a grimace as they boarded the bus for the city. He watched the sky for most of the trip and tensed every time the bus hit a puddle. Sans made small talk here and there, but it was hard to focus on whatever he was saying. At some point during the trip the skeleton dozed off for a good five minutes, head on Grillby’s shoulder. That was somehow worse, since then Grillby didn’t have the rumble of his voice to distract him.

The city was as wet as he had feared when they finally arrived. Grillby kept a tight grip on his umbrella.

“How far is it?” he asked as they got off at a bus stop. Grillby tried to stare at all the impossible buildings instead of at the gray sky and puddles of deadly water.

“Just a couple blocks. A bazillion miles by my standards, but not bad for everyone else.” Sans chuckled a little to himself.

“Hm.”

“Hey.” Sans caught hold of Grillby’s hand, making Grillby looked down at him. Sans gave him a reassuring look.

“I know you’re nervous, but I’m gonna look after you.”

Grillby forced himself not to scoff. That was ridiculous, on multiple levels. It wasn’t like Sans could stop it from raining. And the tenderness in Sans’s voice when he said it seemed completely unwarranted. Their relationship wasn’t really built on  _ tenderness.  _ It was friendly, casual, no-strings-attached, and though at times Grillby sort of wanted something deeper, it had just never happened. Sans was practically allergic to commitment. They had been friends for almost a decade, but they had only been--Grillby hesitated to call it  _ dating-- _ for a little over a year.

Sometimes Sans acted like it had been going on for much longer. It made no sense.

“And trust me, I think you’ll really like this,” Sans continued, giving Grillby’s hand a little tug. “C’mon. We’re gonna pass this weird little coffee shop on the way, too. Best cappuccinos in town. Gonna pass the museum of natural history, too…I don’t think we’ll have time today, but someday I gotta show it to you. They got this exhibit on Mt. Ebott--didja know it’s an extinct stratovolcano?”

Grillby sighed to himself and followed. This was for Sans. Let Sans enjoy his good mood, show Grillby whatever he wanted to show him, and then they could go back to Outside. Grillby could get back to work, well away from rain and puddles.

The coffee shop was neat. Sans called it a “hipster” joint, though Grillby wasn’t sure what that meant. The interior was all dark wood, and there were faux leather chairs and a couple of bookshelves in the back. Humans and one other monster were seated at tables, reading or chatting quietly or working on laptops, and everything smelled like wood and coffee. A few humans glanced up at Sans and Grillby when they walked in, and the barista kept casting wary looks at Grillby. Things had been a little tense between the two species ever since the barrier had come down, but for the most part, the local humans seemed alright. Some of them were even going out of their way to make sure that monsters felt welcome and that monsters integrated into Surface life as smoothly as possible.

It was heartening, but Grillby supposed there was always going to be a bit of wariness, if not outright hostility. Especially when a monster made entirely of fire walked into a building with so much wood.

The cappuccinos really were delicious, though. Human food had always fascinated Grillby. It was harder to consume than monster food, and monsters generally needed to mix some magic into whatever they were eating to make it go down easier. But the flavors were so much more complex and intense. Once Grillby had his feet under him, he was going to make sure that human food made it onto his menus.

They enjoyed their drinks indoors, which helped Grillby relax a little. But as soon as they left, Grillby remembered where they were. He followed Sans along, wishing vaguely that they could have just stayed in the coffee shop all day. Or at least until the threat of rain had passed.

“And check it out, there’s the museum,” Sans said a block later, pointing across the street. The building was large and ornate, with what looked like a bronze dinosaur near the entrance to greet visitors. There was also a fountain, which made Grillby nervous.

“It’s really cool in there,” Sans said, almost wistfully. “A lot of stuff on dinosaurs and geology. Never really was my field, but it’s still neat.”

“You were a scientist?” Grillby asked, giving Sans an odd look. Sans glanced up at him.

“Oh, no.” Sans shrugged. “I just like science, yanno?”

That made more sense. Sans used weird scientific terms sometimes, usually when he was drunk. He also liked to talk about space, though half the time Grillby had no idea what he was talking about. Grillby did like hearing about stars, though. He hadn’t known that star were made of fire--sort of--until Sans had told him.

Grillby’s gaze settled on the fountain again, and then on a particularly large puddle in the gutter.

“Is this thing you want to show me much farther?”

“Heh, you’re sounding like me when Paps makes me go anywhere,” Sans said, grin turning a bit wry.

“You know this much water makes me uncomfortable.”

“Yeah, but…”

Sans’s face did that thing where his grin didn’t technically move, but something about it…changed. It was in his eyesockets, Grillby thought. They rounded out just barely, so that his grin was no longer quite reaching them. It was such a subtle change, and this sort of grin was much more typical of Sans’s normal demeanor, but something about it always sent a pang through Grillby’s soul.

“Grillb, if you wanna go home, we can,” Sans said, still with that typical grin. “It’s just a shortcut away. I don’t wanna push you or anything.”

Grillby honestly wanted to take the offer, but Sans had been so enthusiastic only a moment ago. He wasn’t sure if Sans was trying to guilt-trip him or not. Sans never seemed to take anything seriously, to the point that it was hard sometimes to see anything about Sans as genuine. Every time he  _ started  _ to seem genuine, he took it back, or his grin changed into the one Grillby was seeing now.

The lack of trust was the biggest obstacle to having any sort of deeper relationship with the skeleton.

“No,” Grillby said at length. “Let’s just see this…surprise of yours.”

Sans’s grin shifted, reaching his eyesockets again. It  _ looked  _ genuine, but Sans was so frustratingly good at faking.

“Okay,” he said, and started walking again. “Just, seriously, tell me if you wanna go, yeah? I really do think you’ll like this, but it’s, yanno, it’s not worth it if being out here is gonna  _ douse  _ your spirits.”

It wasn’t funny, but Grillby just sighed.

They walked another block. Grillby tried to let himself just calm down and enjoy this. It was nice being out with Sans like this, if nothing else. They had never been ones to go on dates or anything, since Grillby was usually too busy and Sans just didn’t want to put in that kind of effort. This felt almost like something that people in a normal relationship would do. Taking a walk, getting coffee, a mysterious destination. Like an actual date. The idea was compelling in a way that Grillby didn’t really want to admit to.

They were stopped at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to change. Grillby had almost managed to let himself relax, even despite an impressive puddle in the road nearby. Then he saw a car coming up the street a bit too fast.

Sans seemed to realize what was going to happen even before Grillby did. In an instant he had positioned himself between Grillby and the curb, arm wrapping around Grillby’s waist. Grillby watched the car speed by and hit the puddle, sending a huge spray of water right toward them.

There was a momentary sense of vertigo, and then Grillby found himself further up on the sidewalk, pressed against the side of a building with Sans’s arm still around him. Grillby flinched in anticipation of pain as the car went by, but there were only a few drops of water that splashed harmlessly against his raincoat.

Sans let go and Grillby blinked.

“What…?”

“Jeez, what a jerk,” Sans said, frowning as the car sped off. He looked down at himself. “Aw, man.”

Sans’s side was completely soaked. He groaned a little and took a step away from Grillby so he could shake out his hands. He twisted the end of his hoodie to wring out some water.

“Just washed this thing, too.”

Grillby stared at the puddle, still sloshing back and forth from the disturbance. It wouldn’t have killed him, but it would have hurt like hell. A shudder ran through him and he swallowed, looking at Sans again.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, just wet,” Sans said, grinning again. “You?”

“I’m fine,” Grillby said, trying to breathe. He could feel his flames starting to ripple and dance from agitation. “You got me out of the way.”

“Good,” Sans said with a small, relieved sigh. “Told you I’d look after you.”

“Sans, maybe…this isn’t a good idea.”

That had been too close. This wasn’t worth it, no matter how genuine Sans’s smile seemed to be.

“We’re almost there, though,” Sans said, wringing out his sleeve. “It’s just another block. Come on, you…you know I wouldn’t put you in danger or anything. I’ve got this under control. Just trust me.”

“You keep saying that, but trustworthiness has never exactly been your strong suit, Sans,” Grillby bit off, frustrated. “I’m done. I want to go home.”

Sans stared up at him, face going completely neutral. There was a distant rumble of thunder and Grillby flinched a little, looking up at the sky. The soft gray was just beginning to darken.

“Sans--”

“Okay,” Sans said, and he wiped his hand on a dry spot on his pants to get the last of the moisture off. Then he reached out and took Grillby’s hand.

In the next instant, they were back inside the little stone and wood hut that Grillby had built in Outside, right next door to his food stand. Relief flooded Grillby’s soul and he couldn’t help a shaky sigh. He felt immediately better.

“Sorry,” Sans said and let go. He turned and started walking for the door.

“Sans, wait,” Grillby said, taking a step after him. Sans obliged, looking back at Grillby over his shoulder. His expression was still that plain old typical grin of his, except that…

It finally clicked for real. Sans had been happy before, and now he wasn’t. No wonder his more genuine-seeming grin had looked so out of place. This typical smile of his was the fake one.

Grillby hesitated for a moment. He felt guilty, which was stupid and frustrating. He shouldn’t feel guilty. Sans had said he wasn’t putting Grillby in danger, but  _ anything _ involving water was dangerous. Sans should have known better. Or Grillby should have known better than to agree to going out on a day like today.

It was all just frustrating. But Sans had been  _ happy,  _ actually  _ happy,  _ and the fact that Grillby hadn’t been able to recognize it for what it was meant…

Grillby cleared his throat.

“At least tell me what the surprise was going to be?”

Sans’s eyelights slid to the side for a moment.

“There was this sort of food truck convention in town,” he said, voice painfully casual in a way that made Grillby want to shake him. “There’s this sorta open pavillion and basically a bunch of food trucks set up there. It’s like this twice-yearly festival, I guess? They got everything--hotdogs, tacos, burritos, mac and cheese, dessert stuff…there are these thin pancake-sorta things called crepes? And they roll them up with fruit, or with like meat and cheese and such. Amazing stuff.”

Grillby stared at him, frowning a little.

“I…what is a food truck?”

“Oh.” Sans stepped further into the room and pulled out his phone. He tapped a few buttons, then held it out to Grillby. The screen showed an image of several colorful vehicles, the sides open and emblazoned with creatively-written names, menus and prices. Humans were hard at work within the vehicles making food, or they were standing in line to order.

“It’s kinda like halfway between a hotdog stand and an actual restaurant,” Sans explained. “They’re these big trucks and humans put like, grills in them. And then they cook everything right there in the truck. And since it’s a vehicle, they can move them around. Like a mobile restaurant.”

Grillby started to understand why Sans had been so enthusiastic--and why he thought Grillby would be interested. The concept was…fascinating, actually. Grillby had always been hellbent on simply opening a normal restaurant on the Surface, but maybe this sort of thing would work too. The opportunity to try more human food was appealing as well, as was the chance to watch human chefs work. Grillby had had so many issues with running his food stand, like spacing and keeping up with orders. Learning how humans made it work in something as small as a vehicle would have been interesting.

It just wasn’t really worth nearly being doused. Wasn’t worth the anxiety.

There was another rumble of thunder and Grillby heard the first drops of rain start to patter on the roof.

“This is neat, Sans, but…”

“Yeah,” Sans said, and he took his phone back. He wasn’t really looking at anything anymore. “Well, they’ll be back later in the year, if we’re all still here then. Maybe it’ll be sunny. Or, heh, the rate you’re going, you might have Grillby’s opened up again by then.”

“Well, it’s…neat, like I said,” Grillby conceded. “I’d never considered putting Grillby’s on wheels. I’m not sure it would work.”

“I was more thinking that it could be like…” Sans trailed off and was silent for awhile before giving a vague shrug. “Eh, doesn’t matter.”

“…I hate that you do this, Sans.”

“Y-Yeah.” Sans almost seemed to be shrinking right before Grillby’s eyes. “It was a stupid idea, I shouldn’t have pushed you into…doing something you’re uncomfortable with, especially when--you’re always so careful with me.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Grillby said, frustration crackling into his voice. He rubbed at his face. “Well, that’s part of it, but I--hate that you’re never honest with me. You say it doesn’t matter, but clearly it does. You were about to just walk out without saying a word, as if I’m the bad guy here. You’re smiling and it’s not even real.”

“I’m a skeleton,” Sans said quietly, staring at Grillby’s knees. “I can’t help it.”

“And you do that,” Grillby muttered. “You turn everything into a joke. It makes it very hard to tell when you’re being genuine.”

Sans looked up at him, eyelights dim. The rain had started in earnest.

“I wasn’t joking, Grillb.” He sounded exhausted. “Have you ever seen me  _ not  _ smiling, in the whole time you’ve known me? And I get it, I do. It’s disingenuous. I’m basically lying all the time. Which helps when I’m also  _ intending  _ to lie. Like you said--trustworthiness isn’t my strong suit. But I can’t--help it. Even when I wish I could.”

Grillby watched him in silence for a moment. The thought that maybe Sans was physically incapable of not smiling had crossed his mind, certainly--especially since Papyrus was the same way. Papyrus, however, was just a naturally positive and upbeat monster. With Sans, though…Grillby could remember times he had been worried about the skeleton, times when his smile looked more like a grimace. Sans always just waved it away, saying he was having an off day or that it wasn’t a big deal. Most of the time Grillby was content to believe it. And every time he started to see through it, Sans got better at hiding.

Sans had always been kind of like that, but it had somehow gotten so much worse in only the last few months. It felt so abrupt. Like one day Sans was only faking that smile some of the time, and the next he was doing it all of the time. Grillby had quietly hoped that maybe Sans would just go back to normal now that they were on the Surface.

Grillby felt a sickening twist in his soul. Hadn’t he just been thinking earlier that Sans looking so happy was  _ abnormal?  _ When had it gotten to be like that? When had that become the new normal?

“Sans, I…” Grillby struggled with the urge to apologize. He shouldn’t have to apologize, even if it felt like he had ruined Sans’s one moment of real happiness. It wasn’t his fault that water was so goddamn deadly.

He ran a hand through the flames on top of his head. “You seemed actually happy, earlier.”

Sans just shrugged.

“I’m…sor--”

“No, don’t.” Sans gave a little wave of his hand. “Don’t apologize. My happiness shouldn’t come at the expense of yours, yanno?”

Sans’s grin flickered for a moment and Grillby tried to study it carefully, trying to glean what emotion it meant now.

“You ever noticed that we’re kinda alike, in a way?” Sans made a soft sound that was almost a chuckle. “Little things that aren’t a big deal to other monsters could kill us.”

Grillby had no idea how to respond. Sans sighed and gave an expansive shrug, starting to turn toward the door again.

“Maybe next time we can just go to the museum instead.”

“We…” Grillby hesitated, wondering if he should do this. “We can still go, if you want. It’s indoors, after all.”

Sans looked up at him and there it was again. Real happiness, there and then gone.

“Yanno, I’d--love to, but…shortcuts from that far away really take a lot out of me. Don’t think I’d make it back downtown. The Surface is just so much bigger, yanno?” He closed his eyesockets for a moment. “‘Sides, I should go dry off.”

“…Alright.”

“Next time?” Sans’s grin became tentative.

“Next time.”


	7. Prompt 7: Pillow Talk (Bitte, darf ich das behalten?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans tries to give Grillby a gift. Grillby turns it back on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **This chapter is NSFW**
> 
>  
> 
> Also available on Tumblr.
> 
> Here's a soundtrack:
> 
>  
> 
> [-Spicy Boyfriend - Shawn Wasabi](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NzGGL0VpKUI)  
> [-The Moth - Aimee Mann](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8qtA2sRoQKQ)  
> [-Don't Forget Me - Neko Case](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hCWhkP6ccZs)  
> [-Darf ich das behalten - Wir sind Helden](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AjWmV3EgocI)

“So I had an idea,” Sans was saying.

“Uh oh.”

That was an entirely appropriate response. Sans chuckled a little, propping both elbows up on the bar. It was after close, but Sans was sober enough that Grillby hadn’t decided to kick him out yet.

“You ever heard of Valentine’s Day?”

Grillby shook his head, polishing glasses and watching Sans with guarded curiosity.

“It’s this human holiday they got up topside,” Sans said, gesturing toward the ceiling. “It’s celebrating love and relationships or something. Involves chocolate.”

“Okay,” Grillby said slowly.

“You know what today is?”

“I’m gonna take a wild guess and say Valentine’s Day.” There was levity in Grillby’s voice now that he had an idea of where this was going.

“Nope,” Sans said, waving a hand. “It won’t be for months and months. Technically, it’ll probably never happen at all.”

Grillby made a sound halfway between amusement and frustration. If he had eyes, he’d no doubt be rolling them.

“But I was thinking maybe we could celebrate it anyway.”

“I see,” Grillby said, feigning thoughtfulness. “And what, exactly, would that entail?”

Sans settled for a shit-eating grin, hoping it would hide the heat that was starting to creep up his face. He had to push through this part without bursting into laughter or losing his nerve.

“Usually it involves couples getting each other presents.”

“We’re not really a couple,” Grillby pointed out, and Sans could tell from his tone that he didn’t mean it maliciously. “And I haven’t gotten you anything.”

“No, but I was thinkin’ I could give you something.”

Grillby set the glass he was polishing aside and walked over to stand right in front of Sans. He braced both hands on the bar and leaned toward him.

“And what would you give me?”

Sans pulled a small, glittery red gift bow out of his pocket and stuck it to the top of his skull. He beamed up at Grillby.

“Me.”

Grillby snorted, a little puff of smoke escaping from the top of his flames. Sans couldn’t help a swell of triumph. It was the closest Sans had ever gotten to making him laugh.

“I don’t know,” Grillby said teasingly. “I think I want a gift receipt.”

“Aww, that hurts.” Sans leaned upward a little, pushing himself up on his hands, almost closing the distance between them. “You’re gonna return it without even unwrapping it?”

The fire that made up Grillby’s face had started to glow a little brighter. He reached down and plucked the gift bow off of Sans’s head. Then he shifted his hand to cup Sans’s cheekbone, running his thumb along the curve of bone.

“You want to?” he asked, because he always, always,  _ always _ asked first. He always made absolutely sure.

“Yeah,” Sans said, leaning into the caress. “Actually, that’s the real present.”

“Oh?” Grillby’s other hand took hold of Sans’s upper arm. His heat was already increasing just from the prospect of a night together.

“I feel guilty sometimes, yanno?” Sans said, voice softening a little. “How…sometimes I can tell you really want it when I don’t. How sometimes I get you all hot and bothered and--uh--leave you in the lurch.”

“I don’t mind it, Sans.” Grillby leaned closer. “Really. You never have to feel obligated to me.”

“I don’t. I mean, yanno. Not like that.” Sans had considered just sort of forcing himself into just having sex several times, usually when Grillby was particularly needy. Grillby never pushed, and Sans had never been able to go through with it. It felt like crossing a line that could never be uncrossed, not even with Resets. If Grillby found out that Sans was forcing it, Grillby would probably never forgive Sans, or himself.

Sans couldn’t risk something like that.

“But I’m in a pretty good mood right now,” Sans said, reaching for Grillby’s face. It made him wobble and almost knock over his stool, so he dropped his hand again. “So I was thinkin’…what if we go upstairs and do all the stuff you never get to do?”

Grillby’s hand on Sans’s face stilled.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Sans said, dropping his voice to a purr, “that you can do whatever you want to me tonight. Anything at all. I’m up for it. I know I joke about kinks a lot, but there’s gotta be some shit you wanna do to me that you don’t get to.”

Sans let his tongue form and poked it out between his teeth, just a hint. He was enjoying the look on Grillby’s face.

“Already told Papyrus I’d be out all night, and I know we both got the day off tomorrow. It’s perfect, right? We have all night for you to do whatever…you…want.”

The hand on Sans’s face had started to tremble a little. Grillby had gone almost white as his heat increased. Sans tried to push himself higher so he could finally kiss him, but he could tell he’d lose his balance if he tried. Grillby must have noticed, because he suddenly closed the distance between them and crushed their mouths together. Sans gave an unbidden moan as a molten tongue swept into his mouth, curling against his own.

Grillby clutched the edges of Sans’s hoodie for purchase, pulling him closer, kissing him hard and desperate. He had to be all pent up, Sans thought. He couldn’t remember the last time they had actually slept together.

How Grillby put up with him, Sans had no idea.

“H-Hot,” Sans gasped as Grillby tugged at the collar of his shirt, fingers dancing along his clavicle. Grillby kissed him harder to stifle any further puns, and Sans melted into it, savoring the heat. God, how long had Grillby been waiting for a chance like this, if he was already so worked up? Sans shivered a little in anticipation of what Grillby might have in store. A monster like Grillby must have a good handful of interesting kinks. Sans tried to tell himself that he was ready for literally anything. It wasn’t like Grillby would make him do anything  _ too  _ weird. He was too nice for that.

Grillby kissed him one more town, tongue pushing deep, then broke it off and pulled back. He let go and Sans sank back onto his stool, wobbling.

“Upstairs,” Grillby said, a little breathlessly.

Grillby grabbed hold of him again as soon as they were near the stairwell. They almost didn’t make it up the stairs, kissing and pulling at each other’s clothes. Grillby didn’t seem to want to lose contact with Sans, not even for a second. When they reached the front door to Grillby’s apartment, Grillby pushed Sans up against the door, planting his hands on either side of Sans’s head, pinning him. The heat was intense, like Sans was caught in an inferno. Desire made his magic start to pool formlessly in his pelvis. Sans didn’t let it condense all the way. He wasn’t sure what Grillby would like best.

“You’re sure about this?” Grillby said, breaking away for a moment and breathing fire against Sans’s neck.

“Pretty fucking sure,” Sans said, eyelights blown wide. It was so rare that he felt like this. He wanted to take full advantage.

Grillby fumbled with the door handle and got it open, then pushed Sans inside. The forcefulness sent a little thrill all up and down Sans’s spine. Grillby usually took charge in bed, but never like this.

“Glad you’re e-enjoying your present so far,” Sans said, backing into the main room. Grillby followed him, starting to fumble with his tie.

“As you said,” Grillby said, voice uncharacteristically husky, “I still need to unwrap it.”

Sans made a giddy little sound that was almost a laugh. Grillby reached down and scooped Sans up into his arms.

“Whoa--”

Sans threw his arms around Grillby’s neck, leaning up to run his tongue along Grillby’s jaw. Grillby carried Sans toward the bedroom, nudging the door open with his foot. His flames had gone almost pure white. Sans hoped he could get him to turn blue before the end of the night.

Grillby set Sans down on the edge of the bed. Sans started to shrug out of his hoodie, but Grillby caught hold of his wrist.

“Hold on a second,” he said. He let go and stepped back, finally getting his tie undone and letting it drop to the floor.

“I want to watch you,” Grillby said, starting to undo the buttons on his shirt. “Go slowly.”

Sans grinned up at him, feeling a little dazed already.

“I think a striptease goes better when the clothes are nicer.” He chuckled a little, toying with one of the drawstrings on his hoodie. “And when the person actually looks good naked.”

Grillby hesitated for just a moment, looking almost like he was confirming something.

“Go slowly.”

Sans started pulling off his hoodie as slowly as he could, letting his hands trail and hiss over the fabric. He pushed it down off his shoulders, then let it slide down around them. He ran his tongue over his teeth as he watched Grillby pull his own shirt open. Puns aside, Grillby was  _ hot.  _ His flames were beautiful, the shape of them sturdy and powerful.

“God, I’m a moth to the flame,” he murmured, finally getting himself out of his hoodie. He tossed it aside with what he hoped was a suave motion. He started to pull his shirt up, slowly like he’d been instructed. He saw Grillby give a little twitch as Sans’s lower spine came into view.

“Like the show, huh?”

Grillby nodded, letting his shirt drop to the floor. Sans chuckled and hiked his shirt upward, letting it slip past one rib at a time. He waited until the angle started to become a bit too awkward to continue at that speed, then he ducked and raised his arms so he could pull the shirt all the way off. He tossed that aside as well.

“Ready for the good stuff?” he said with a wicked grin, hands settling at the waistband of his shorts.

“Socks and shoes first,” Grillby said.

“Right, right.”

Sans had to lean down to untie his shoes. He kicked them both off toward one corner of the room. When he looked up again, he saw Grillby pull his erect cock free from his pants. Sans froze, staring. The sight of it made his magic swirl in his pelvis, almost painfully as he forced it not to take form. Not yet, not until Grillby told him what he wanted. The heavy twist and pull of his magic sent heat through his bones, even though Grillby wasn’t touching him.

Grillby noticed Sans staring.

“You want this?” he said, and he ran his hand over his cock in one slow stroke.

“Y-Yeah,” Sans said, almost unable to get the word out. He wanted it. Wanted Grillby to make him take all of the considerable length, wanted to feel it stretching him wide.

He didn’t think he’d been this horny since college.

“Then keep going.”

Sans exhaled and leaned down again to pull off his socks.

“D’you…” Sans took hold of his waistband again, breathing a little too quickly. “…want me to be…saying anything?”

“Tell me,” Grillby whispered, kicking his way out of his shoes, “what you want.”

“H-Heh, Grillb, tonight’s all about you,” Sans said, pushing his shorts down millimeter by millimeter. “Not me.”

“Tell me,” Grillby said, more firmly.

Sans wasn’t good at this part. He had never been good about talking about what he wanted, just in general. Wanting was like wishing, which was like hoping. And dirty talk like this made him a little self-conscious. It was fine as a joke, but when it was for real, it always felt so silly coming out of his mouth.

“I…uh…” He worked his thumbs beneath his waistband, pushing his shorts further down. “Fuck, Grillb, I--I want you--inside.”

His shorts started to slip past his sacrum, which meant he needed to sit back a little. He made the motion look like he was bucking toward Grillby, eager for him.

“Go on,” Grillby prompted, dropping his pants around his ankles and stepping out of them.

Sans mentally cast around for something that would sound good.

“I want you in me.” Sans gasped as he worked his shorts down his pelvis and past the glow of his magic, still swirling and churning without form. “I want you to fuck me. I, I want you to--do whatever you want to me. Use me. Wreck me.”

He got his shorts down to his knees, and gravity did the rest of the work. His shorts fell to the floor and Sans sat back on the bed, spreading his legs to give Grillby full view of his magic.

Grillby took a step closer.

“Is that really what you want?”

“Gonna make me beg?” Sans let his tongue loll. “Fuck, Grillb, I need you.”

“Sans, is that  _ really   _ what you want?”

Sans stared up at him, confusion flickering across his face. This didn’t really sound like Grillby was trying to get him to beg. Grillby’s tone was more firm, the way it got when he was asking for Sans’s consent. But Sans had already  _ given  _ consent, multiple times now.

“I--I want whatever you want, Grillb.” God, he wished Grillby would touch him already. “That’s the point.”

Maybe he needed to get into specifics or something. The filthy details. He was working himself up to it when Grillby spoke.

“I’m asking because…maybe I don’t want to  _ use  _ you, Sans.”

“C…C’mon, Grillb,” Sans said, blushing furiously. “It’s like a…sexy thing, or whatever.”

Grillby reached out and lay a hand against the side of Sans’s face.

“I know,” Grillby said, leaning forward to kiss Sans on the forehead. Sans squeezed his eyesockets shut, thrown off by how gentle it was.

“I don’t want to  _ fuck _ you, Sans.”

“G-Grillb, please.” Sans took hold of Grillby’s forearms. “I want it, I seriously want it, I wouldn’t fake something like this, please--”

Grillby kissed him on the mouth, hard. The desperation was gone, but the passion wasn’t. Sans’s protests died away. Grillby drew back and then shifted closer, pressing his forehead to Sans’s.

Grillby knew what that meant. He knew what that meant to a skeleton, even if they had never done it, at least not in this timeline. Kissing was always cursory at best, all tongue, since forming anything else was too complicated. Touch was already such a complex thing for skeletons, since half the time it was hard to feel anything at all. You had to get as much out of a touch as you possibly could. Lacing fingers together, curling hands around spines. Touching foreheads.

It was a thousand times more intimate than a kiss, and Grillby knew it. Sans stopped breathing for a moment, eyesockets wide.

“I want to  _ make love _ to you,” Grillby whispered, hands settling at Sans’s clavicles.

Sans made an incoherent sound and his magic dropped into place with such force that he couldn’t help but jerk forward against Grillby. Grillby wrapped his arms around him, stroking his spine.

“I want you to feel everything,” Grillby said, and he leaned down to run his tongue slowly up Sans’s sternum. Sans’s head tipped back and he gasped, trembling.

“Everything, even the things you dodge.”

Grillby started peppering Sans’s sternum and ribs with fiery little kisses and licks. Sans made soft, ragged sounds, leaning back further. It felt like his soul was coming ablaze.

“Grillb, what’s…what are you…?”

This wasn’t going how Sans had expected. He had expected--something kinky and wild. Toys, bondage, for Grillby to make him act like a dog or something. For Grillby to bend him over and fuck him until he screamed. Not--this, whatever this was.

“When I worry…” Grillby kissed his sternum. “When I get frustrated over how you talk about yourself…” His lower spine. “…or how you treat yourself…” His hipbone. “When I show you I care, even a little…” His ilium. “You dodge.”

“Grillb…” Sans could barely even breathe.

Grillby gripped Sans’s femurs and ran his tongue along Sans’s pussy, slow and hot. Sans threw his head back, arms shaking with the effort of holding himself up.

“G-Grillb, I, I don’t--”

“Being cared for frightens you,” Grillby said, and Sans clenched at the feeling of hot breath against his entrance. “But it’s also what you want more than anything. Isn’t it?”

“H-How, h-how do you know?” Sans was gasping, whole body trembling. “You can’t know that…” He’d been careful. He thought he’d been so careful.

“You’re not the only one who’s observant, Sans.” Grillby stroked Sans’s femurs, pushing heat into the bone. He ran his tongue up Sans’s pussy again, dipping in just a little, then pressing hard against Sans’s clit. Sans let out a sharp cry.

“Beautiful,” Grillby murmured, running his thumbs along the ischiums. He lapped at the sudden gush of liquid magic from Sans’s pussy. “You’re beautiful, Sans.”

“Shut up,” Sans breathed, and he pushed himself upward, arching forward to wrap his arms around Grillby’s head. “Shut up, don’t lie.”

“Beautiful.”

“Shut  _ up.”  _ Sans hooked his legs over Grillby’s shoulders. This was too much, too much, Grillby needed to stop talking or Sans was going to completely lose it. It wasn’t true. This had to be some kink he’d never heard of, where you said pretty lies to someone until they melted into a goddamn puddle.

He couldn’t take this.

“P-Please, Grillby, please, s-stop talking, just put your tongue inside me,  _ please.” _

Grillby dropped to his knees and leaned forward. He pushed his tongue into Sans, agonizingly slow, licking along his walls as he went. Sans gasped and twitched, eyesockets snapping open, toes curling. Grillby’s tongue pressed deep inside him, and the heat was indescribable. Sans’s soul pulsed unseen in his ribcage, and heat that didn’t belong to Grillby built rapidly inside him, almost pushing Sans over the brink.

This felt better than anything they had ever done, and yet Sans almost felt like crying.

“Oh god, oh god,” he panted, tongue hanging out. He was pretty sure he was drooling. Disgusting. How could Grillby possibly call any part of him  _ beautiful? _

Grillby slowly drew his tongue back out part of the way, then pushed it in again. He closed his mouth over Sans’s pussy and sucked.

Sans was suddenly very glad that Grillby didn’t have any neighbors.

“Ahh,  _ aah,  _ G-Grillby!” Sans grabbed fistfuls of flames and pulled, bucking forward. “Ohhhooohh god, it feels so  _ good…” _

Grillby responded by doing it again, harder this time, curling his tongue so that it pressed against Sans’s clit and g-spot.

Sans came with a warbling wail, pussy clenching, soul overflowing. His bones lit up with inner magic, sparks leaping between his ribs. Sans curled forward, just barely managing to keep from wrapping his whole self around Grillby’s head. Grillby withdrew his tongue and Sans gave a soft little mewl.

Grillby very carefully unfolded Sans and stood, laying Sans back on the bed. Sans flopped there, limbs splayed, feeling completely spent. He didn’t think he’d ever come like that before.

Grillby crawled slowly onto the bed, positioning himself over Sans.

“Are you alright to keep going?”

“Yeah,” Sans answered right away, trying to steady his breathing. “Just…just need a sec.”

Grillby bent down to kiss him between his eyesockets. Sans gave a little whimper.

“Can I keep talking now?” Grillby murmured.

“You’re being…t-too nice.” Sans draped an arm across his eyesockets, afraid to look at Grillby’s face. “I don’t get it. Tonight’s…supposed to be about you.”

“You said I could do whatever I wanted,” Grillby reasoned. “What I want is to make you feel good.”

“Why? S’not fair.” Sans’s voice shook and he gritted his teeth to try and get control of himself. “I don’t know how to…it’s so much. I don’t…”

“Sans, do…do you want me to stop?” There was real concern in Grillby’s voice now, and that just made Sans feel even worse. Sans felt heat draw closer and Grillby ran a thumb along Sans’s jaw. “I don’t want to upset you. We can do it like normal if this is upsetting you that much.”

That wasn’t  _ helping.  _ That was still too sweet, too attentive, too  _ caring. _

“N-No, it’s…” Sans made himself swallow. “I like it, I like it a lot, it’s j-just--confusing. I sh-shouldn’t like it this much. I don’t…”

Grillby kissed Sans softly on the mouth.

“You don’t…?”

Sans pressed his arm harder to his eyesockets, until it started to hurt. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve any of this.

“N…Never mind.” He drew his arm away before Grillby could notice what he was doing and put on a shaky smile. “I’m ready. You--you can say whatever you want.”

“Mm.” Grillby kissed him again, lowering himself. He sat back on his heels to get a better position. Sans stared up at him, captivated by the expression on Grillby’s face. He looked…

He looked like he…

“So…if I tell you again that you’re beautiful, you won’t tell me to shut up this time?”

“G…Grillby…”

Grillby pressed two fingers to Sans’s pussy, spreading him open. Sans gasped and twitched, shifting forward.

“If I tell you that I can’t get enough of how you feel when I’m inside you?”

Sans covered his mouth with a hand to try and quiet himself. Grillby reached up and gently pulled his hand away.

“I want to hear you,” he said, raising Sans’s hand to his mouth. He pressed a kiss to Sans’s knuckles, at the same moment that he slid both fingers inside him.

“Hhhaa…” Sans’s spine arched up off the mattress. “Please…”

“I don’t want you to hide this time, alright?” Grillby slid his fingers back out and took hold of his cock, moving forward. “I want to see the real you.”

“No you don’t,” Sans breathed, chest hitching again when he felt the head of Grillby’s cock against him. “You don’t. Y-You don’t even know what, what you’re asking. I’m…i-it’s not worth it, I’m not…”

“Shh,” Grillby purred, and he slowly pushed himself inward. Sans’s back arched again and he let out a loud, needy wine. Sans felt like he was being filled with fire, like he was about to burst into flames himself from the inside out. And it felt  _ so fucking good. _

Grillby’s form lost some of its definition as he thrust in the rest of the way, carefully hilting himself inside Sans. Sans let out another cry, writhing beneath him. His pussy throbbed with overstimulation around Grillby’s cock.

“Ahh…” Grillby breathed, fire spilling out of the molten slash of his mouth. “You’re doing so well, Sans. You feel incredible.”

It was too much, too many sensations, too many emotions warring for dominance in his soul. Sans wanted to beg Grillby to stop talking, but another part of him wanted to beg for more. It didn’t make sense. Why did Grillby want it like this? Why was he  _ saying  _ all these things? Grillby had always been more passionate in the bedroom than he was in public, but tenderness like this had never really been part of their relationship. Not on this level.

Though maybe that was because every time Grillby tried, Sans shut him down. It was scary. Confusing. He was pretty sure Grillby had even asked him once, why Sans was so averse to the idea of someone being tender with him.

He couldn’t understand it. It was utterly overwhelming. Sans could barely even think anymore.

Grillby began to move, thrusting slow and deep. He leaned downward, wrapping his arms around Sans, covering him with his flames. White and blue fire rippled through him, and Sans could tell that he was just barely managing to control the intensity. Sans threw his arms around Grillby’s shoulders, holding him as close as he could. Every steady thrust rocked him to his core, and Sans gave up on trying to control the noises he was making.

“You’re amazing like this,” Grillby said, voice crackling so much that it was almost hard to hear him.

Some part of Sans knew he should just shut up, that this was just some kind of sex thing, that he shouldn’t make such a fuss, but…

“A-Am not.” It was childish. Silly. But Grillby couldn’t be serious about all the things he was saying. He  _ couldn’t  _ be, no matter how his face looked, no matter how he sounded.

Grillby kissed him hard and Sans moaned into his mouth, body shuddering.

“Nothing I say ever convinces you, does it,” he said, speaking right against Sans’s jaw. “I’ve…never been good with--ah, with words.”

“Y-You don’t have to--” Sans lost his thread as Grillby thrust more deeply than before, driving into Sans slow and sweet and hard. “A-Ahh, oh god, r-right there, Grillby--oh god, please, I’m gonna--!”

“I want to show you,” Grillby said, voice breaking a little. “I want you to see how much I care about you.”

The inferno seemed to swallow Sans whole. His soul pulsed and heat raced through him as he came a second time, arching upwards, tendrils of fire leaking out of his mouth. Stars burst before his vision. For a half-second, Sans lost all sense of where he was, abandoning himself to the feeling.

He gasped for breath. Grillby had stopped moving, though Sans could tell that he hadn’t finished yet. Grillby shifted so that he could reach down and cradle Sans’s face, making Sans look up at him.

“Are you still--?”

“Keep…” Sans said between desperate gasps. He was exhausted, overstimulated, overwhelmed in every sense, but he wanted more. He peered up at Grillby, eyelights wide and fuzzed over. “Keep going…I need it.”

Grillby started moving again, thrusting even slower this time, movements gentle. Sans gave a drawn-out moan, pussy fluttering, a deep, pleasant ache setting in. He didn’t think they’d ever done anything this intense before, not in any of the timelines. Sans couldn’t remember the last time he’d come more than once.

“Why are…” Sans rocked in time with Grillby, gazing up at him. “Why are you doing this? Why is…this what you wanted?”

“I told you.” Grillby’s flames were flaring even brighter, blue-white. “I want to--ngk--show you how I feel. Is…that really so hard to believe?”

There was something he wasn’t quite saying, something on the edges that Sans could barely pick up on. Something that made Sans feel weak.

“I want to make you happy,” Grillby said, and he gave a low, growling moan. “I want to make you feel good.”

“I f-feel good,” Sans said, words dissolving into a little mewl. “Ahhnn, it feels s-so good, Grillby, I…I just, I…I don’t understand…”

Grillby looked down at him, and for a moment he looked…sad. Deeply sad.

Sans reached up toward his face. Grillby caught hold of his hand and pushed it back down, pinning it to the mattress and lacing their fingers together. He drove harder into Sans with a throaty groan and pressed his forehead against Sans’s again.

Sans felt heat prickle at the corner of his eyesockets and squeezed them shut. No, no, this was so stupid. He wasn’t going to start crying during sex. This was so stupid, why was he being like this? Why was this all getting to him so much?

“I wish you understood,” Grillby whispered against him. 

“I-I’m sorry,” Sans gasped. “I’m sorry, I’m--I just, I-I can’t, Grillby, I d-don’t--deserve it, I can’t…”

“You deserve to feel good.” Grillby bucked a little, movements starting to become erratic. “Ahh, god, Sans, why can’t you see it? You deserve to--feel loved.”

Sans’s breath caught and his eyesockets snapped open.

"Grillby--”

“You deserve to be loved.”

“You can’t, y-you can’t.”

Heat was building inside him again, like a sun about to explode.

“I love you, Sans,” Grillby said, and his body snapped forward as he came with a sharp cry. Blue flames overtook him and for a moment he was nothing but fire. The flood of liquid heat inside him was enough to push Sans over the edge one last time. Sans gave a keening wail, Grillby’s flames roaring through him.

It was an eternity before the heat receded and the flames died down. Sans collapsed back, bones feeling like overcooked noodles, completely spent. Any other time and he would have fallen asleep right away after all that.

Any other time.

He could feel tears spilling down the sides of his skull. Sans buried his face in his hands, desperately hoping that Grillby didn’t see. Grillby shifted on top of him, and Sans felt Grillby’s fingertips graze against the back of his hand.

“S…Sans.”

“Don’t…” Sans could barely even whisper. “Don’t look at me.”

“Are you crying?” Grillby gently tried to pull Sans’s hands away, but Sans wouldn’t let him. “Did I hurt you?”

“No.” Sans choked on a sob. Pathetic, god, he was  _ so pathetic.  _ “No, you didn’t. You didn’t, I’m…fi…”

He was losing it, losing control.

Grillby carefully moved backward, enough to pull his cock out of Sans. Sans whimpered at the absence, feeling suddenly empty. So damn empty.

“Sans?”

“S-Say you didn’t mean it,” he said, peering at Grillby through his fingers, trying desperately to stop crying. “You didn’t really mean it. It was just--j-just a sex thing. You knew--you knew it would get me off.”

“Sans.”

“Say you didn’t mean it. P-Please, Grillby.”

“I…” Grillby sounded like he was at a loss. “Sans, I…I didn’t mean to say it so--abruptly. I’ve been looking for a chance to say it, but I…I thought…”

Sans was crying in earnest now. He drew his knees up toward his chest, ignoring the unpleasant way it made Grillby’s cum spill out of him. He curled up onto his side, crushing the heels of his hands against his eyesockets. This was pathetic, disgusting,  _ horrible.  _ Here he was having some stupid breakdown after the best sex of his life.

And Grillby said he loved him.

“Sans…?”

Sans felt a warm hand touch his shoulder.

“I’m sorry.” Grillby sounded-- _ heartbroken.  _ “I didn’t mean… Is it really that awful?”

“No, I,” Sans said quickly, but he didn’t know what he wanted to say. “It’s not--I--I don’t know what I’m f-feeling. It was all--it was all so good, it all felt so good, and I--you don’t understand, Grillby, I--”

There was no such thing as a safe time to say it. Sans wept into his hands.

“I--love you so fucking much,” he choked out. “You have--y-you have no idea how much I--how long I…”

Grillby moved closer toward him and started rubbing up and down Sans’s humerus, trying to soothe him.

“I want this so bad.” Sans gripped his sternum hard, fingers sliding between his ribs. “It hurts so much.”

Grillby curled against him and slowly wrapped his arms around Sans, pulling him gently against his chest. Sans stiffened for just a moment before giving in. He shouldn’t, he should just make himself stop crying like a babybones, should just get out of bed and go home and wait for the Reset. Should just do what he always did and not care. Not let this matter.

But it mattered too much.

“All I want is to make you feel a little better,” Grillby said, speaking against Sans’s neck. Sans kept his hand firmly over his eyesockets, not wanting to get tears on him. “Even if it’s just a little.”

“You don’t understand,” he whispered, shivering with sobs. “It doesn’t  _ get _ better. I-It just--goes around in circles. It’ll all s-start over again, and I’ll… _ oh god,  _ I’m going to lose this, I’m going to lose this.”

He was becoming incoherent and he knew it. Just a babbling, weepy idiot, making no sense. He just couldn’t  _ stop.  _ Something had broken and now everything was spilling out.

“You’re not going to lose this.” Grillby hugged him tighter. “Sans, it’s okay. Please, try to calm down. You’re not going to lose me.”

“I  _ am.”   _ It was getting harder and harder to even speak. “Y-You’ll forget all of this. We’ll b-b-both forget this. It’ll start over and I’ll--i-it’s like a rubber band. You--try to hold on and--it snaps and--it h-hurts worse. Worse than if y-you’d just let go.”

“I’m not letting go,” Grillby said, still stroking Sans’s arm. “I…don’t know what’s going on in your life, but I want to be there for you. I’m here, Sans. I’ve got you.”

Sans felt like his soul was breaking in slow motion.

“Sans. Look at me.”

Sans tried to wipe at his sockets but the tears just kept coming.

“I-I don’t want to cry on you.”

“It’s just magic, Sans,” Grillby said gently. “It won’t hurt me. Please.”

Sans gave a shaky, defeated, utterly exhausted sigh. Then he started to roll over. Grillby helped him along until Sans was facing him. Sans’s eyelights had gone out and he couldn’t meet Grillby’s gaze.

“We’ve both shied away from this in the past.” Grillby reached forward and brushed some tears away from Sans’s eyesockets with his thumb. The magic steamed against him. “I don’t want to anymore.”

“You’ll forget.” Sans shivered despite the heat. “You’ll just f-forget you ever wanted this. And I’ll just--wake up one day and…wonder why it hurts more. And besides, how could--how could you--love something like me?”

“You might be a pain in the ass…but you’re not as hard to love as you seem to think.” Grillby pulled him closer until they were flush, touching his forehead to Sans’s again. Sans’s breath hitched and fresh tears came to his eyesockets. “I’m not going to forget this, Sans.”

“You don’t understand.”

“Can’t you explain it to me?”

“I…”

Sans let his eyesockets slide closed, quietly making a decision.

“Maybe if…maybe if tomorrow comes,” he whispered. “I’m just…I’m so tired.”

He smiled a little, despite himself, wiping at his eyesockets again.

“Sex like that and…e-emotional breakdowns take a…a lot out of a guy.”

He felt Grillby smile a little as well.

Sans snuggled a little closer. He was still trembling, but the tears were beginning to slow, leaving him with a pounding headache.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a long silence. “I didn’t…th-think I’d just…burst into tears like that. I haven’t cried in…man. A real long time.”

“It’s okay,” Grillby said, kissing him between the eyesockets. “I…suppose I did say that I wanted you to feel  _ everything.” _

“H-Heh.”

“Do you feel a little better now?”

“A little.” Sans buried his face against Grillby’s chest. “I’m…Grillb, I’m really--scared.”

“I know. It’s going to be okay.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know that I love you,” Grillby whispered, and it sent another little shiver through Sans. “And…I want to find out if that’s enough.”

Sans made a soft, thoughtful sound.

“That’s…I…I don’t think I ever thought of it that way before.”

“It’s been an educational night, hasn’t it?” Grillby settled around Sans with a sleepy little sigh. “I think I like this…Valentine’s Day of yours. We should do it again.”

“I hope so,” Sans said, and he meant it.

He reached out and felt around until he could catch hold of Grillby’s hand. He squeezed, and Grillby squeezed back.

“I want to keep this one,” Sans said, not sure who he was speaking to. “Please, can’t I…can’t I keep this one?”

Grillby kissed him one last time, and Sans’s tears finally stopped.

They fell asleep in each other’s arms.


End file.
